Pandora
by Chibikat the Canuck
Summary: Depression. Happiness. Lust. Confusion. Love. Hate. . . . control. . . His world was shattered because of the power he had. Pandora's Box has been opened. ~*Chapter 13 Completed*~
1. Dreams

Disclaimer: Oh if only I owned these characters. . . why they would prance about in a field all day, skippling merrily to and fro and singing "I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay! I sleep all night and I work all day!" However, no characters do I own in this (except for a couple, but it will be apparent as to whom those characters I own are) and thus no skippling takes place.

  
  


Rating: I'm breaking tradition with my earlier stories. This is going to be rated R for graphic violence and implicit sexual situations. REALLY outta the ordinary for me. O_O And my, this actually has a PLOT! *gasp*

  
  


Author's Notes: This fanfic is extremely dark. It is positively, absolutely NOT for the squeamish or those who easily get ideas in their heads. Yes, there will be blood and mature themes, so please read with your own discretion. 

  
  


Now that THAT'S out of the way, I'd like to say a big big BIG thanks to Naomi Athena for her help on this story. She helped as a beta reader, and all around muse and inspiration for one of the characters in this story (I assure you this is not a self-insertion though!), and she's just been great help. Without her, I don't think I would have really bothered to follow through on this. Also: 

  
  


Italics are thoughts

//~*~// indicates the beginning/end of a dream sequence

*=*=* indicates next scene of a story

  
  


Summary: Kuno begins to manifest a strange power that he's not sure he can control. Can anybody help him in time? What's this strange new clan that shows an interest in Kuno? The Blue Thunder of Furinkan High must face the biggest challenges of his lifetime if he wishes to save the lives of his friends and himself.

  
  


And lo, Chibikat presents. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  


This was his chance. Finally, inexorably, he could rid the world of true evil to free the purity that was enslaved to such a lowly man. Finally, they would be emancipated from the iron fist that was depravity and could run without fear into his waiting arms. Finally, they would see beyond the haze of their captor and into the searing love in his heart.

This was Kuno's chance to finally defeat Saotome. Akane and the Pigtailed Goddess would be his in one stroke of his wooden sword. He would prove to them once and for all that it was he, not Saotome, that was truly deserving of their caresses! It was this emotion called love that drove one Tatewaki Kuno to rage his own war on the man he believed was keeping him from achieving his ultimate goal: to date Akane Tendo and the Pigtailed Girl. The audacity of that coward Ranma to keep him from what was his! The sheer effrontery!

Those kinds of thoughts fueled Kuno's rage continuously. They were the drive behind each immense sword stroke, the power in each thrust and jab, the force behind his enormous strength. The thoughts and raw emotions powered him to such a degree; he fought with his heart, not with his head.

Sadly, it was always his downfall. When Kuno challenged Ranma, it was always for the love of two of the most beautiful women on earth. When Ranma accepted, it was out of sheer boredom or necessity. Kuno saw Ranma as the precise obstacle in his life that kept him from utopia; Ranma saw Kuno as a poetry-spouting punching bag who was a good way to release negative tension and stress. Kuno swung his sword, Ranma dodged, Ranma kicked or punched, Kuno was knocked on the ground unconscious. It was really a fixed daily routine, much to Ranma's chagrin. While Kuno unintentionally helped Ranma to develop his skills, the pigtailed boy was also getting quite annoyed with his constant challenges and claims that Ranma was keeping his Pigtailed Goddess hidden away from the world. Ranma Saotome almost pitied the kendoist; he had no idea that his true love and worst enemy were one and the same. Surely if he ever found out, he'd be crushed.

Of course, with Kuno's current train of thought, he wouldn't be finding out or accepting the truth any time soon. 

He stood his battleground with confidence; his bokken held steadfast in his right hand, his left foot forward slightly. The wooden sword was somewhat behind Kuno's back, with his left hand clenched in a fist by his waist. He looked contemptuously at the boy before him, and lovingly at the blue-haired beauty by his side.

"Ranma Saotome, today is the day you fall by my sword of justice!" Tatewaki yelled, dramatically pulling his bokken from behind his back and grasping the hilt with both of his hands. Its blade pointed directly between the eyes of a certain pigtailed martial artist.

Knowing a fight was imminent, Ranma tossed aside his school valise.

"Give it a rest, will ya Kuno? Ya do this every morning, and it always ends up the same way!" Ranma told him, completely exasperated by Kuno's immensely thick head. Akane sighed, and told Ranma that she was going inside the gates so she wouldn't be late. The Blue Thunder of Furinkan High simply scoffed.

"Ah, confident are we? Defeat preys on such aplomb and I, Tatewaki Kuno, shall teach you that lesson!" Kuno cried, lifting his sword and bringing it down in a large, swooping arc. Ranma jumped with cat-like grace (although he would never describe it that way) onto the branch of a nearby tree. Kuno was perturbed that the sword strike hit nothing but air instead of its intended target. He swung his head around to said cherry blossom tree. He smirked in annoyance.

"A game of cat and mouse, Saotome? Stop playing your childish games and fight me like a man!" he bellowed, readying himself for Ranma's oncoming attack, bokken up front. The kendoist gritted his teeth in preparation for his enemy's strike. 

Ranma, on the other hand, sighed in resignation. He couldn't very well just walk away now; Kuno would be on his case all day. I guess I'll just have to get this over with as quickly as possible, the pigtailed boy thought, readying himself to jump and attack. 

He sprung from the branch with ease, flipping forward off of Kuno's head and twisting his body around in mid-air so that his foot connected solidly with the brunette's skull. Ranma landed gracefully; such was a different story for Kuno who fell like a pile of bricks onto the lush grass of Furinkan High's front field. The pigtailed martial artist sighed and looked down at the pathetic mess that was Tatewaki Kuno.

"Now do ya get it? You're not gonna beat me anytime soon, so stop challenging me every morning. You're making me late," Ranma said indignantly, picking up his school briefcase. The black haired boy didn't expect - or want - Kuno to respond in kind, seeing that he was in dream land courtesy of Ranma's well placed kick. He started off for Furinkan High, when he heard a slight shuffle behind him.

"R-Ranma Saot-t-tome. . . I. . . f-fight on. . ." a voice weakly said. Ranma, absolutely astounded that Kuno was extra bullheaded this particular morning, turned around to see the Blue Thunder stand shakily on his legs, supported by his splintering bokken. No sooner did Kuno utter something along the lines of 'prepare to die Saotome' did Shampoo crash onto Tatewaki's head with her bicycle, accenting her rather violent and sudden arrival with a cheerful 'Nihao!'

Kuno had embraced the blackness of unconsciousness once more. 

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


Anger. It flowed around him like a blazing current, illuminating the blackness that surrounded him. Beautiful fire raged about him, whipping his yukata about angrily, yet never searing it with its intense heat. Rather than feeling frightened of the flames around him, he felt as if the dancing, scorching element was a part of his very being. It felt deliciously invigorating, yet an eerie feeling crawled up his spine as the fire twined around Tatewaki's body that made him shudder involuntarily. It was almost draining.

It had to be Ranma Saotome's fault. Somehow that evil cad was making Kuno feel so weak! It was always his fault somehow!

The fire around Kuno grew larger and larger. It lit the darkest of the dark around him, and like a great bird the fire swooped in an eminent circle around his head, slowly spiraling down his body, giving him power yet attenuating his strength greatly. Suddenly, an image of the man that Tatewaki Kuno loathed appeared shimmering in front of him. 

Ranma was there to taunt him, Kuno knew it for sure. Gloat, would he? Kuno was angered beyond belief. 

The fire curved around Kuno's form in a tighter and thicker circle, until it was as if Kuno was a pillar of solid flame. 

You're so weak, Kuno! You can't beat me, Kuno! You're so pathetic Kuno! he heard Ranma say, although his lips weren't moving. Kuno cried out in rage, unable to take Saotome's insults any longer, and so decided to act on his feelings. A steady column of fire burst out at the image of Ranma, ripping it in two blazing halves. The illumined Ranma slowly dissipated, leaving nothing behind but embers that were also beginning to die.

The flames were gone; disappearing with the image of Saotome. It was dark once more, and Kuno was weak and tired. So tired. . .

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


The kendoist's eyes flickered open to the harsh light of the fluorescent lights directly above him. They stung his already blurry vision, and so he decided to look away and around at the rest of his surroundings. The room he was in was completely white, save the beige curtains to his left and a small vase of pink carnations on a bedside table beside him. 

Where am I. . .? Tatewaki thought dazedly, blinking his eyes in a vain attempt to regain perfect vision. He realized that he was also extraordinarily warm, even in his light and airy samurai garb that he constantly wore. Kuno wasn't wearing any large covers or blankets, so he assumed it must've been the room temperature that was making him feel so sweltered. 

Though his vision was temporarily impaired, his ears picked up the sound of hard shoes clacking down the hallway adjacent to the creamy white wood door opposite his bed. A few seconds later, a woman entered wearing a nurse's attire. She had long black hair that fell around her back, and a warm, inviting presence. She smiled prettily at Tatewaki.

"How are we feeling?" she asked, walking over to a table and wringing out a washcloth in a basin full of cold water. Kuno attempted to sit up to respond, but found himself to be terribly weak and unable to hold himself up by his own willpower. He flopped back down on the bed heavily, his hair matted against his forehead with sweat. The nurse took notice of this and rushed over to his side, pressing the cool, white washcloth against his heated forehead. Kuno let out a shocked gasp at the precise coldness of the water, but found he couldn't respond coherently.

"Oh my, it seems you have quite the fever. I'll be right back with some medicine,"she told him, a worried expression present in her clear grey eyes. She gave him a slight smile, although her eyebrows were knotted in concern for the boy. Quickly, she left the room to fetch the medicines to give the sick boy.

A fever? But I never get this sick. . . Tatewaki thought, his mind in a complete haze. He couldn't quite think straight, his only other thought wondering when the pretty nurse was going to turn the heat down in the room. His yukata was beginning to cement itself to his body, which was drenched in sweat. He breathed in and out heavily, trying to keep focus on the world around him which, annoyingly enough, just wouldn't stop spinning. He felt his heavy eyelids close just as the nurse entered with a tray of strange and vile-smelling chemicals that could be considered medication.

  
  


*=*=*=*=

  
  


"Sick? That's impossible, I was just fighting him this morning!" Ranma said in surprise, shoving a piece of his bento lunch into his mouth. Nabiki smirked.

"Not impossible Ranma, they carted him off to the hospital about a half hour ago," Nabiki told him, looking over the contents of her own lunch. Akane didn't have time to cook that morning, so Kasumi had prepared her sister's lunch. Nabiki sighed in relief; she wouldn't be joining Kuno in the hospital today.

"But he seemed himself this morning; I mean, if anything, he was extra healthy. Didn't go down until Shampoo landed on him with her bike," Ranma told Nabiki, trying to remember if anything was wrong with Kuno that morning. Nothing unusual came to mind.

"What did Shampoo want, anyway?" Nabiki asked, curious. Ranma shrugged.

"I dunno. Wanted to show me how great a wife she'd be with this new item at the Cat Café she cooked up," he began, pushing around the contents of his lunch with his chopsticks, "good thing Mousse showed up and ate it."

"Why, what happened to him?" the middle Tendo sister asked.

"I think it was a love potion mixture. Couldn't really tell though; Mousse is always going crazy over Shampoo," the pigtailed boy sighed. There was a beat of silence.

"Well, Kuno's a freak, and freak accidents and diseases happen to freaks," Nabiki said cooly, getting back to the topic at hand while eating some white rice lightly doused in soy sauce. It wasn't a nice statement, but it was the only thing Nabiki could come up with at the time. 

"What? What happened?" Akane inquired of the two, approaching them with her own lunch box. It was a beautiful day outside, so the students were eating outdoors for the most part. Quite the coincidence that Ranma, Nabiki, and now Akane were sitting under the very tree that Kuno and Ranma were fighting near. The broken branch still sat on the opposite side of the tree trunk.

"Kuno's been shipped off to the hospital for a fever or something," Nabiki informed her younger sister, elegantly eating a piece of delicious sushi. Akane was a bit surprised.

"Really? He seemed okay this morning," Akane stated, opening up her own bento and breaking apart her chopsticks. Nabiki shrugged.

"That's what I said too, but stranger things have happened in Nerima, so it shouldn't be too big of a deal. Besides, it's Kuno. He'll get over it and be ready to get his butt kicked again by me tomorrow!" Ranma exclaimed. Nabiki and Akane couldn't help but agree (although both were annoyed by Ranma's cockiness, as per usual), and chatted about whatever came to their minds as they munched on their meals under the protective branches of the cherry tree.

  
  


*=*=*=*=*=

  
  


Kodachi watched as her brother slept in the hospital bed. She had received a call at St. Herbereke's at lunch about the condition of her brother, and was excused from school to pay a visit to the hospital. The doctors said they couldn't reach their father; not that it would have mattered anyway. Kodachi figured that he wouldn't have come if called anyhow, most likely too busy conjuring up more ways to terrorize the students of Furinkan High and practicing his faux Hawaiian accent. It was depressing; but at least the Kuno siblings had each other to depend on. Most of the time. Stalking Akane Tendo and Ranma Saotome respectively took up much of Tatewaki and Kodachi's time. 

So, her thoughts wandering to a certain martial artist in a bright red Chinese shirt and a jet black pigtail, Kodachi sat by her brother's bed. It wasn't that she didn't care for Tatewaki; far from it, actually, but it was just so easy to let her thoughts linger on Ranma. His muscular build, his handsome face, the way his eyes glazed over when Kodachi slipped him some sleeping powder; it was almost as if God had sent one of his angels to live on earth. . .

The Black Rose's thoughts were disturbed by a quiet gasp emanating from the bed beside her. Kodachi quickly turned her head, to see her brother obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Tatewaki scrunched his eyes tightly, hurried breath escaping his mouth in ragged gasps. Beads of sweat began appearing on his forehead, beginning to drip down his face and neck. Kodachi looked at him with an almost maternal concern, resting her hand on his forehead. She gasped in surprise when her skin touched her brother's. For somebody with a fever of his caliber, his skin was cold. 

Ice cold.

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


It was so cold all around him. His teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms tightly around his body in a vain attempt to keep warm. He took a step forward in the black room, the only light radiating from the ice that began to gather around his hands. He was desperately cold; yet couldn't imagine feeling any other way as of this moment. The frigid cold swept up and through his entire body, freezing the very blood in his veins. The cold and hollowness was deeply rooted within him, making the hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stand briskly on end.

Why? Tatewaki thought blearily, blinking the snow flurrying around him out of his eyes. Where was the snow and cold coming from? Were they. . . were they coming from him? Kuno was confused beyond belief.

Until he saw a person in front of him. Tatewaki could only see a faint outline at first, his eyes couldn't distinguish any features. He took a step forward, the new ground beneath his outstretched foot freezing and crackling in a matter of seconds. Slowly but surely, the person came fully into view.

She had long, beautiful black hair that reached past her waist and billowed around her. Her skin was creamy and pale, and her eyes exotically dark. She wore a simple white gown, yet she somehow made it look elegant and beautiful. Her deep red lips were curved into a soft, loving smile. Tatewaki recognized the woman before him immediately.

"Mother. . .?" he asked, barely above a whisper, not believing what he was seeing. Kuno dreaded even the thought of making a sudden movement, for fear that she would be frightened away or disappear, and he would never see her again.

Rather, she seemed to be floating just a few inches above the ground. Her body was incased in a hushed white glow, her gown and hair flowing about her. She looked like an angel.

That's what she is though, Tatewaki thought sadly, looking at the woman before him. He desperately wanted to touch her, to be able to embrace her once again, to have her hold him in her protective arms. He reached his arm out slowly, tiny shards of ice crackling and falling at the movement, his joints complaining. They were nearly frozen to a halt; but Tatewaki had to be able to feel her once more.

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. It looked, however, that she was attempting to call her son's name. Her hands motioned for him to come to her, smiling brightly so as to show Tatewaki her perfect white teeth and her blushed cheeks. Kuno took another step towards her, ice slowly entwining his form and surrounding his being. The boy could barely see beyond the blue haze of ice blocking his vision of his mother, but he pressed on determinedly. She was calling him. . .

Smiling the entire time, she beckoned her son forward. However, it seemed for every step Tatewaki took, she would slowly float backwards, always just out of his reach. The ice swirled around him constantly, beginning to sting his eyes, drawing tears that immediately froze to his cold face. Her mouth kept mouthing 'Tatewaki', though still no sound was heard. Kuno stumbled forward, desperate to reach his mother, who was beginning to fade.

"Mother. . ." Kuno managed to say between chattering teeth, his frost covered hand reaching out to her transparent form. Her dark brown eyes locked with Kuno's blue ones for a split second.

She smiled, but this time the warmth was replaced by another emotion: sadness. Closing her eyes, she began to disappear, the ivory light that surrounded her beginning to fade. Kuno tried with all his might to move, but his body was frozen, and could barely push forward as it was. Tatewaki fell to his knees, droplets of ice flitting around him, freezing his hair to his forehead. The ground beneath him was instantly turned into solid ice, a faint blue glow illuminating the distraught boy's face. He looked up at his mother's fading form.

With the mouthed words 'I love you', she dissipated completely. Tatewaki was utterly confounded. His hands wearily searched the air in front of him, the rings of ice beginning to encase his body and a faster rate. There was no trace of the woman left.

His mother was gone once more. He cried in anguish at the top of his lungs, giving up on supporting his weight and falling in a heap on the ground. He let the ice envelop him; it was so much easier that way. He couldn't even cry; the tears froze to his face before they even had a chance.

Tatewaki Kuno stayed in that fetal position, trapped inside a globe of ice, for what seemed to be an eternity. Slowly, he felt his vision begin to fade. His world turned to black, the image of his mother's angelic face ingrained in his mind's eye. Tatewaki heard a voice in the back of his head, pulling him away from his world of ice and darkness. . .

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


"Brother! Brother wake up!" Kodachi said quietly, shaking Tatewaki's shoulders slightly. She didn't want to hurt him, for she knew she had the strength, just wake him up from whatever bad dream he was having. It wasn't only the nightmare he was having that worried her though; when Tatewaki breathed she could see the vapor leaving his mouth with every puff, as if the temperature was sub-zero. On top of the icy skin, it didn't take a genius to figure out something was terribly wrong.

"Tatewaki, please wake up!" she cried, shaking her brother a bit harder this time. Kodachi bit her lip in alarm when he still didn't wake up. She ran to the doorway, calling for a nurse, doctor, or any medical professional that would listen. Hearing a groan from her brother's bed, Kodachi whipped her head around to see the Blue Thunder groggily opening his eyes. She ran over to his bed, joyed to see that he was conscious. Kodachi raised her hand to his forehead, and was also glad that it was rapidly returning to its original temperature; although she noticed that the sheets, which were now strewn about the bed messily, were frozen near the edges, although it was beginning to melt. Kodachi made sure to file that away mentally.

She looked back up to Kuno's head, which was turned towards the window and not her face. It looked almost as if he was searching for something.

"Brother," Kodachi started, her voice small, "what happened, Tatewaki?" She stroked the ebony ponytail that hung over her left shoulder with her hands in a gesture of nervousness, awaiting an answer from her distressing kin. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before turning his head to meet the face of his sister's.

His eyes held sadness, confusion and. . . was that fear that Kodachi saw? For a brief moment, indecision passed Kuno's face, wondering whether to tell Kodachi of what he saw in his dreams. 

Would she be able to help me? Would she be able to understand? Tatewaki asked himself mentally, his sister searching his face for a clue as to what was going on. Kuno himself wished he knew.

Suddenly, a small legion of nurses entered the room, shooing Kodachi away from her brother's bedside and out into the stark, white hallway of the hospital. The Black Rose craned her neck to see what they were doing to her brother, but the nurses promptly shut the door in her face.

"Rude commoners," she muttered under her breath, masking the concern she felt for her brother. Leaning against the white wall, she waited beside his room for the nurses to be done their check-up on him. 

Well, I was the one frantically calling for the doctors, I suppose they had to come sometime, she concluded, staring distantly into the void of the near-empty hallway. Kodachi attempted to sort out what was happening to her brother; first a high fever, then turning as cold as a corpse. . .

Cold as ice, he's not going to die, the Black Rose assured herself, biting her lip in frustration. She felt helpless at the moment; something she seriously was not used to.

If only Ranma darling could help! Kodachi thought wishfully, dreaming of her pigtailed prince, if only to distract herself from the situation at hand. 

  
  


*=*=*=*=*=

  
  


Like a cat she scaled the tree, keeping herself hidden from the outside world in the green foliage. The wind whistled, tossing her hair about her green eyes, slightly obscuring her vision. She pushed her tress behind her ears, keeping it in place as best she could so she could see properly. The girl peered through the branches and leaves, and into the hospital window. There, sitting up in a bed, was a boy around the age of seventeen, looking blankly out the window and saying something, although the girl couldn't rightly tell what.

So. This is the boy that we've been looking for, she thought smugly, making a note of his basic features for future reference. From what she could tell, he looked a bit dazed, and pale.

It was going to be easier than she thought.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


And that's about it for now. I hope you like it so far! This is only the beginning, so of course it's not going to be as interesting as the later chapters and, of course, it's twice as confusing. @_@ I'll try to make the next chapter longer for your enjoyment and sanity. ^^;; Well, I've always said that there needed to be more Kuno fics out there, so I actually decided to do something about it. This fic's for you, all you Kuno fans out there! :) Remember to review! ^_^

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  



	2. Questions

  
  


Disclaimer: Oh ho HO! I see you, you people coming to read this story. You think you're SO great because you're reading this for FREE, eh? WELL FORGET IT! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA -*gets promptly knocked out by men in tight shirts who work for the mysterious yet powerful 'Citrus Lady' and dragged away to 'Author's Who Don't Own Their Characters' land, all the while mumbling about how Soylent Green is people and how Macarthur's park is melting in the dark*

  
  


Author's Notes: I would very much like to thank those of you who took the time to review. That helps me greatly. ^_^ Extra kudos goes to Naomi Athena, Silver Sunshine and Silver Vaporeon for being great friends and even better muses. You guys rock! ^_^ (Extra note: all three of those mentioned people are authors on here on fanfiction.net, and they've got great stories. I suggest reading them!) I'd also like to say that, yes, this will be a long fanfic. It's kind of an epic; and in my mind not a bad concept. I hope you guys enjoy reading it!

  
  


Just some extra stuff:

'. .' indicates thought

". ." indicates spoken words or phrases

//~*~// indicates the beginning/end of a dream sequence

*=*=* indicates the next scene of the story

  
  


Rating: It's still rated R for the same reasons, although if the later chapters shape up to what they could be, the rating may be bumped up to NC-17. It all depends on how well I've fleshed this out. ^^

  
  


And so, without further adieu, I present to you the second chapter of. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  


*=*=*

Tatewaki Kuno had been through many things in his life that most of us could only dream of. Being attacked by an elephant and a Chinese prince with a penchant for pickles, rice and chopsticks in one day was old news. Cursed dog men were nothing unfamiliar and easily smote with skill and prowess of the wooden sword. Evil pigtailed martial artists were to be contended seriously with, however openings in their seemingly invincible stances were found and exploited. He could still feel the punches of love indented on his face from Akane Tendo and his Tree-Borne Kettle Girl. There was nothing to fear, nothing to feel pain from. 

However, Kuno did not like needles. No, scratch out "did not like" and replace with 'utterly and completely detested'. This was quite a new discovery, seeing that he usually wasn't in a hospital being mercilessly poked and prodded by overweight and under-qualified nurses with something horribly sharp. Being a man, he was expected to take it with dignity and bravery; if Kuno was of any less stature and wealth, the phrase "to hell with it" might have crossed his mind. Squarely looking a rather pudgy and sour woman in the eye, he began to speak, his voice low and deadly.

"Don't do that," he told her, motioning with his head to the needle she was busy hooking up to the vein in his arm. Kuno's voice and facial expressions didn't faze the woman, as she raised one eyebrow and pushed just a little bit harder into his blood vessel. Kuno scarcely bit back a yelp. The fat nurse wheezed out what could've been considered a laugh as she went to help the other nurses do some different yet equally ungodly thing to his body. Tatewaki squeezed his eyes tightly in hopes that they would be finished soon.

"Alright hon, we just need to take a blood sample and we'll let'cha know the results once we get 'em, alright?" another obese nurse told him, her frizzy black hair held back by her nurse's hat. Kuno looked contemptuously up at her chubby face, feeling as if he could burn a hole through her head. She smiled back at him, somehow mistaking his loathing for gratitude that she could suck the very life force from his body. With disdain, he looked away from her face and at the IV beside him, the soft dripping noise beginning to drive him insane. He sighed noisily, looking to the ceiling for some sort of relief, some sort of alleviation from the annoyances surrounding him. Kuno found a fluorescent light whose humming, which began to drown out the IV's dripping, was at least twice as aggravating as one of the nurse's bodily weight, and it was beginning to sting his eyes. The door was shut, so there was no sovereignty to be found in the hallways from the bleak white that permeated the general vicinity of his keep. 

Kuno did not like hospitals. Not one bit. Perhaps if one of the nurses were as pretty as the one at Furinkan. . .

He remembered with a start that he indeed was not at Furinkan, and all the corpulent women were gone, replaced by the solitary figure of his sister. Sighing, Tatewaki sat up, realizing that the needle left a rather unpleasant sting in his left arm, which was now bandaged to protect any more blood from leaking out. Kuno shifted his gaze from his sister's dark, imploring eyes to the window, which had a fair view of a nearby park. Although he could feel Kodachi's eyes staring at his back, many years of kendo practice had allowed him to have excellent concentration.

"Where am I?" the boy asked absently, scanning the surrounding outside region. Lush foliage inundated the park, where young children were gleefully playing with friends and siblings. Kuno spotted two kids that looked to be brother and sister, helping each other onto the teeter totter, and enjoying the ride's benefit of going up and down continuously. They seemed to be having the time of their lives, the sister's thick black hair waving up and down behind, the brother's dark chestnut hair flowing in a less dramatic way. The children were laughing; innocence written all over their faces, completely oblivious to the world around them. Tatewaki smiled inwardly despite himself, watching the kids enjoy themselves so. He could see the girl most clearly; he could imagine her laughter and see her clear dark eyes, her long black hair. . . 

She was a spitting image of a younger Kodachi, he realized suddenly. The boy, stopping the ride slowly, looked behind him as he dismounted the ride so as not to hit anybody. He had short, dark brown hair, and grey eyes; much like his own. Kuno drew his breath in sharply, yet silently, as the boy turned back around to slowly help his sister off the teeter totter. Lowering the bar slowly to the ground, he walked around and helped the girl up, both of them smiling. The children ran over to a woman who was walking towards them; obviously their mother. She had beautiful, long, raven black hair and deep brown eyes. The mother scooped up both kids, hugging them tightly as they nestled into her protective arms. Even from a distance, Tatewaki could see the looks of utter contentment on both the children's faces. The young boy looked his mother in the eye as she tenderly gave him a kiss on his cheek. The little boy smiled, and turned his face in the direction of Kuno's hospital window.

Their eyes seemed to lock for a second; the boy's innocent ones with Tatewaki's surprised stare. It was almost as if Kuno was looking back through time at a younger, more naive version of himself. A happy self. . . 

Kuno quickly tore his gaze from the window, a sense of loneliness flooding his body. He clenched his white bed sheets in an iron grip, willing his heart to slow down. The dream had seemed all too real; and now this? 

'Why?' he asked silently, staring down at the sheets which had suddenly become more interesting. Kodachi, impatient with her brother's odd behaviour, cleared her throat loudly in hopes of getting his attention. Kuno's head snapped up to see his sister tapping her foot on the floor, one hand resting on her hip.

"Kodachi," he breathed, not quite sure of what else to say, "why are you here?" Although they still carried a look of annoyance and self-righteousness, Kodachi's eyes softened into a more concerned gaze at her brother's question, albeit barely. Her red lips curved into a lopsided smile.

"I received a telephone call at noon hour telling me that my brother was in the hospital. What was I to do?" Kodachi said, mock helplessness trickling through into her voice. Chuckling under her breath, she walked towards Tatewaki's bed and pulled up a chair.

"Would the intentions of missing your next class fueled your visit, or have your feelings towards me taken an abrupt turn so that you may actually worry about my health?" Kuno implored, looking at Kodachi wryly with his tone carrying a sharp edge of disbelief and sarcasm. She gave a slight 'hmpf'.

"Why brother dear, do you truly think so little of me?" Kodachi asked with a smile, dramatically acting as of an arrow had been shot through her heart, "I was concerned for your well-being, brother dear. Missing mathematics was simply an added bonus." There was a beat of silence, and soon both of the Kuno siblings began to laugh, quietly at first, but soon grew louder. Kodachi's laughter was not the insane cackling that she was notorious for, but rather light and airy, surprisingly normal and easy to listen to. Tatewaki laughed as well, but not with the same jovial enthusiasm as his sister had. Tugging at the back of his mind were the images of the children in the park who, rectified with a quick glance out the window on Kuno's part, had left, and his haunting and startlingly real dreams. The boy grew more sullen, however his reverie and quick analysis of the day thus far were put to halt by his sister's dying laughter. Tatewaki looked at the smiling Kodachi, who was now smoothing out the wrinkles in her tan St. Herbereke's school uniform.

Kodachi would never act this way in public; they had to uphold the image that they hated each other. Why? It didn't really have an explanation as to why, but it was expected that the two were incompatible. The truth was that Kuno did love his sister; they have had to depend on each other for most of their lives, so of course a strong bond was developed. Tatewaki was acutely aware that, yes, there were times that his sibling grated his nerves immensely, especially when it came to her poor taste in men. However, blood indeed ran thicker in her case, and Kuno was glad that Kodachi was by his side during his hospital stay.

'Although why I am in this hospital is still a mystery' Kuno thought, noticing that now Kodachi was looking at him, her head tilted somewhat, and attempting to read his expression.

"Why was I brought to this medical centre, dear sister?" Tatewaki asked. Kodachi sighed quietly, accepting the fact that today was one of her brother's denser days. He seemed to be having a fair number of them recently.

"When the doctors contacted me, they relayed to me the information that you had an extremely high fever," she began, looking into her brother's eyes, "however a few minutes after my arrival, I find you turning ice cold." 

Tatewaki was surprised. He knew that he was feeling very hot in the school infirmary and naturally attributed it to having a fever, although he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he was sick. His skin turning icy was news to him.

"What do you mean I was ice cold?" he asked, the surprise showing in his voice. Kodachi bit her lip.

"As I stated, I touched your skin and it was icy beneath my fingertips. Surely strange symptoms for one with such a high fever, I thought," the black haired gymnast concurred, looking worryingly at her sibling. Kuno's face screwed up in thought, a trying experience for the boy indeed. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, telling him something, like he should be connecting with his dreams and his bodily actions. First, Kuno thought, he had the strange dream about fire and Saotome, and he found himself with a fever. Next, he sees his beautiful mother where he is surrounded by cold, and his sister informs him of his icy skin. 

'Could my body be reacting to the dreams I'm having? Why?' His condition left him with more questions than answers. This was very strange indeed; it would require more thought.

Suddenly and without knocking, the fat nurse with the frizzled black hair entered Kuno's room carrying a clipboard. She smiled warmly and made Kuno about ready to puke.

"Well Mr. Kuno, since you're fever's gone and your tests proved nothin' out of the ordinary, the doctor said that you're free to leave," she informed the boy. Kuno couldn't help but feel the obese woman's eyes running up and down his body; he still wore his hakima and the front of it was nearly completely open. Shuddering in revulsion and plastering a horribly fake smile on his face, he nodded and said his thanks to the nurse, who smiled and walked out of the room. 

Tatewaki felt very unclean right about then. He swore he could still feel that fat woman's eyes on his body, and it was extremely unsettling. Pushing all thoughts of that disgusting moment from his mind, he lifted his sheets off his bed and swung his feet and legs around and off the mattress, his bare feet touching the cool tile and sending an odd sensation up his spine. Kodachi stood as well, walking around the side of the bed to meet with her brother, who was now standing. With Kodachi leading the way, the Kuno siblings left the hospital room together, shutting the door behind them and making their way to the front entrance.

  
  


*=*=*=

  
  


Silently she watched from the trees as the two teenagers left the tall hospital building. A cool breeze blew by, rustling the twigs and leaves of the tree she was crouching in, however she still managed to stay completely still and silent. Brown hair flying all around her, the girl in the tree cursed wordlessly at the misfortune of the man having the girl with him. Physically she wasn't a threat, but having unwanted attention drawn to the situation at hand was a bad idea. The girl knew much better than that. Her eyes trailed the two teens, realizing that they were soon going to be out of eyesight. She nimbly jumped from the branch she was crouching on, using it much to the effect of a springboard, and leaping gracefully into the protective foliage of another nearby tree. The girl tried not to disturb the leaves as much as possible; even the slightest hiss or rustle and she would be seen, her chances with the boy would be completely lost.

Like a snake she slithered among the branches, not once disturbing the delicate leaves that shrouded her in emerald green. She peered out of tree and at the boy and girl who were walking down the sidewalk, talking about something, although the woman in tree couldn't tell what. They stopped before an intersection, cars zooming by on the busy roads, churning up asphalt and gravel with their grinding tires. It looked like the pair were waiting for the light to change so they could cross.

This presented a bit of a problem for the woman in the tree. It wasn't impossible to cross the street at a high speed without being seen or heard; but that was if you were a regular person walking down the sidewalk, your mind distracted by some stupid care or worry in your mundane existence. According the information she had gathered, the boy she was watching was not exactly ordinary. He wasn't a martial artist by linear terminology, but he knew a great deal of them, and he was adept at kendo which no doubt helped to heighten his sense of awareness. If she wished to get across the street, she would have to time her jumps perfectly. . .

The light turned red, and the cars stopped, allowing for pedestrians to cross. The woman readied herself, shifting her position for the best possible jump. The black haired girl walked across, waving to the boy she was walking with. He didn't look like he was going to join the girl in getting to the other side.

'Well. That makes things easier on me' the woman thought as she watched the boy travel down the street opposite of where the pony-tailed girl had walked. Unconsciously she ran her hand over her forehead, which was covered by a green headband. She felt the familiar lump on her forehead that had been her blessing and curse for the last few years. The brown haired woman smiled a smile that carried both a sense of irony and bemusement as she leapt from tree to tree, watching the boy and waiting for when he was on a quieter street to strike. 

He walked down the paved path, obviously lost in his thoughts, not really paying attention to those around him. Passing bystanders briefly wondered why there was a man wearing samurai clothing wandering down the streets aimlessly, however they soon continued on their business, although glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes. Nerima certainly had their share of oddities; no matter how many times the locals saw them they still never quite got used to them, although many of the citizens were thankful that this particular member of the unofficially dubbed "Nerima Gang" wasn't destroying public property or bringing with him panty thieves, demons, or more strange martial artists.

Kuno didn't care about what the other people thought at this point though; he could sense their eyes on him, their questioning, leering eyes studying him. It bothered him somewhat, but he managed to ignore them without getting out his bokken and showing them why it was a bad idea to get on The Blue Thunder's nerves. Instead, he continued to walk towards the general direction of Furinkan High, stopping at a crossroads to allow cars to pass. Looking in the distance he could see his high school and the giant clock, telling him it was 2:30 in the afternoon. Briefly he wondered if it was worth going back to school just for an extra hour or so; his house wasn't very far away, and the teachers and students probably thought he was still in the hospital. Although he felt rejuvenated, Kuno wasn't in the mood to teach Saotome any more lessons in punishment for locking up the beauteous Akane Tendo and Pigtailed Girl. His feet turned and led his body on the sidewalk to his mansion, leaving Furinkan High in the distance.

The woman, following in the trees, smiled devilishly. The streets he were walking were becoming progressively less populated, and the boy was obviously not aware of his surroundings to his full extent.

The gods smiled upon her today.

  
  
  
  
  
  


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I'm evil. ^^ I'm sorry, it's 2:30 a.m., and this is as much as I can think right now. I hope you enjoy this in the mean time; I know it's not great, but nyeh. R/R, please and thank ya!

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Encounters

  
  


Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I, Chibikat, own the characters used. Except for the ones that came from my mind. . . those I own. I'm positive that nobody ELSE wants to own them, so I guess I'm a happy little camper. I'd be much happier if I owned Kuno and Ryoga though. Mmm. ^^ Bwee, I'm a sick sick little girl.

  
  


Author's Notes: Well, that last chapter was short, I know, and I left y'all on a cliffhanger. Not that a whole bunch of people are reading my story, but for the few that are, I'm sorry 'bout that. ^_^ This chapter will have much more action; but just may leave you more confused than poor Kuno. If that's possible. Gomen nasai!

  
  


As usual:

'...' indicates thought

"..." indicates speech

*=*=* indicates next part of story

//~*~// indicates the beginning/end of a dream sequence

  
  


Rating: Sticking with R so far. Whee, rhyming is fun. ^_^

  
  


Now, Chibikat Productions proudly presents the third installment of. . .

  
  
  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Call him paranoid, but Kuno had the distinct feeling that he was being watched as he made his way down the small street towards his mansion. Looking behind his shoulder, his eyes scanned the immediate vicinity for anything suspicious-looking. There was hardly anybody on the street; an old washer-woman who was sprinkling liquid on her front lawn and a couple little kids playing hopscotch, but nothing else that he could see. Reluctantly he turned around and began walking down the sidewalk again, trying to shake the strange feeling that made his arm hairs stand on end. Slowly but surely, his thoughts began to wander from paranoia to the strange events of the day.

'Why have I begun to have these dreams? Why are they effecting my body?' Tatewaki asked himself, his hands folded behind his back, his hakima billowing in the breeze. He kicked a small pebble down the street as he walked, his head swarming with questions that, as of yet, had no answers and were confusing him a great deal. He tried to make connections to his bodily behaviour and his dreams, however nothing very logical came to mind. Kuno figured it may be a one-time thing, that it was just some freak accident that had happened to him. Maybe it wasn't. The kendoist sighed in resignation, realizing that it would take a greater deal of thinking on his part to unravel the mystery surrounding him; perhaps, somehow Ranma Saotome was to blame. If that were the case, it would make things so much easier; all he would have to do is surprise that wretched boy and beat him silly with his bo-

There was a rustling in the trees surrounding him. Kuno whirled around, drawing out his wooden sword, scrutinizing the foliage, attempting to see if anybody was hidden and watching him. He squinted his eyes against the glaring sun; that certainly wasn't helping his cause at all. From what the boy could see however, there seemed to be nothing.

'Perhaps I am just imagining things. Effects of the fever' Kuno concluded, cautiously reverting back from his kendo stance to a more relaxed form. He sighed, his heart beating a mile a minute and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The death grip on his bokken slacked, and he turned to walk to his mansion. 

There was another stirring in the trees, and in a blink of an eye Kuno found himself thrown back into a brick wall, cracking it with the tremendous force of his body. He slumped to the ground, his bokken clattering noisily on the pavement. He blinked his eyes, trying to force away the bleariness that overcame him, reaching blindly for his wooden blade and managing to grab it before he was again smashed into the wall, clearing through it easily and onto the other side. Kuno rolled painfully off of the broken bits of cement and bricks, shaking his head clear and twisting his head in every direction to see his assailant. The roads were empty as far as the eye could see; which made Kuno even more nervous. The iron grip he held on his weapon made it splinter slightly, his body ready to move at the smallest sight or sound. His muscles tensed, ready to attack.

Scraping of feet - behind him! The Blue Thunder whirled around, bringing his kendo sword down onto the place he heard the sound. Kuno saw that, indeed, there was a person behind him, and they had just dodged his sword strike. The boy's reflexes seemed to act on their own, his bokken moving at lightning speed, living up to his nickname. The blur that was the person attacking him managed to dodge every one of his strikes and somersault behind him, kicking him squarely in the back. He hit the ground hard, hearing an audible crack in his rib cage - which meant another trip to the hospital; which made Kuno extremely angry. Anger and pain was not a good mix if you were opposing one Tatewaki Kuno.

The boy emitted a rather bestial cry of infuriation, forcing his body up and jabbing his sword at the abdomen of his attacker. The person managed to jump and do the splits in mid-air, allowing the bokken to pass through the air harmlessly. Kuno was now allowed a good look at his opposition.

Well, the oppositions breasts, at least. In the position she was in, Kuno's eye level was exactly parallel to the woman's cleavage, which was barely contained in a green tank-top that hung loosely, exposing a fair amount of her chest and abdomen. Her denim skirt was hiked up, displaying the bottoms of her white cotton panties. Her ink black boots reached above her knees and had massive platform heels, explaining why being kicked was so painful. Her brown hair flowed out around her, two blonde streaks sticking out amongst the sea of mahogany. A green headband running across her forehead kept it all in place.

Kuno barely had time to react when she swung off the branch of a cherry blossom tree and locked her legs around Kuno's neck, burying his face into her most private area. Tatewaki couldn't breathe; not just because of the woman's crushing lock on his neck, but for the fact he was so embarrassed and quite taken by surprise. Kuno could feel some of the weight shift from her legs to her upper body, but was a bit too. . . erm, *preoccupied* to do anything about it.

The woman allowed her upper body to fall in a controlled manner so her hair was scraping the pavement. Making sure she kept her legs around her opponent's head securely, she positioned her hands on the ground, and shifted her weight to her arms, allowing for a good and steady anchor.

She jerked Kuno's head and body with her legs as if it were a test, and milliseconds later his body was mercilessly smashed into the ground with her powerful legs. The woman remained in an arch, her head bent backwards and looking at the brown haired boy, who bounced a couple times on the pavement before coming to a complete halt. The girl back walkover to get out of her arch and, standing upright, walked slowly to what seemed to be an unconscious teenager lying in the middle of the road surrounded by debris.

It certainly would not do to have some idiotic passer by see the scene and call the police. That could ruin everything, the girl concluded. She half dragged, half carried the boy's carcass into a nearby clearing which was shrouded from view by some well placed shrubbery and new building developments. The woman unceremoniously dropped the boy so he was laying on his back, looking up with closed eyes. The brown haired girl flopped beside the unconscious boy, examining the way his chest fell up and down as he breathed, his well toned muscles, and his defined face. By all terms, he was quite handsome.

'Too young for my tastes' the girl concluded. Wiping a stray piece of blonde hair out of her green eyes, she decided to review the short fight she and the boy had had but minutes ago.

'He's fast, but not quite fast enough. The boy has a massive amount of strength; but he doesn't quite know how to direct it. His reactions are impeccable and he can really do damage with only a wooden sword, which by all means is amazing for a seventeen year old. He also doesn't seem to be aware of his developing skills; but I suppose that's where I come in' she thought, debating whether she should use the smelling salts she brought just in case or let him come to on his own. Explaining something to an unconscious boy was not only useless, but completely stupid.

The girl heard a groan behind her, and turning around she saw Kuno start to get up. He was rubbing his head and looked just a tad bit confused. Turning his head, his grey eyes met the woman's deep green ones. Kuno couldn't help but allow his own gaze travel down her face and her neck to rest at her bosom, which wasn't covered to its fullest degree. The girl noticed this, and couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a teenager through and through, Tatewaki," she said, her voice not quite deep but smooth nonetheless. Blinking and tearing his attention away from her chest, Kuno looked back up at the woman's face, surprise evident on his own features. 

"How do you know my name?" he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. The girl had beaten him in combat but a few minutes ago; and now she knew who he was? His muscles tensed, and his hand found his kendo sword lying in the grassy field just a few feet in front of him; he clutched it tightly, pointing the end of it at the girl's face. Instead of feeling threatened like Kuno had wanted, her eyes simply softened and she smiled lopsidedly.

"Relax, I'm here to help you," she told him in a tone befitting a small child. With one hand she lowered his bokken while placing the other on his shoulder reassuringly. Kuno shrugged it off, not believing a word of what she was saying.

"Help me? You surprise attack me, knock me unconscious, drag me to this field and tell me you're going to help me? Vile wench. I am sure you also cracked one of my ribs," he spat, gingerly touching his right rib and recoiling at the sharp, stinging sensation. The kendoist bit his lip, half in frustration, half to keep from yelping in pain. The girl lolled her head from left to right, fixing a titled gaze on Kuno's face.

"Now now little Tacchi, aren't we the testy one?" she asked in amusement. Kuno gave the woman a deep scowl; a very scary looking scowl indeed. He rose to his feet, his bokken not drawn still at the ready. Traces of surprise lingered in the death glare he was diverting to the brown haired lady before him.

"Only my father ever called me that," he flatly said, "how do you know these things, woman?" The girl rose as well, her stare never leaving Kuno's eyes. Although her platform boots gave her considerable height, she still only came up to Tatewaki's chin in height, and even then just barely.

"I know many things about you, Tatewaki Kuno," she whispered, her words carrying on the wind and brushing past Kuno's ears, "many, many things." 

Unsettled was an understatement in Tatewaki's case. Here standing before him was a woman who could and would beat him mercilessly, and seemed to be exhibiting all signs of a crazy stalker. His legs wanted him to run far, far away; however his mind told him that she would find him without a doubt. Kuno mustered up as much courage as he could, and stood in defiance, narrowing his eyes at the girl in front of him.

"You seem to know who I am, and yet I am clueless as to whom you are," Tatewaki stated, making sure his eyes never left her lithe form. Closing her eyes and smiling, the woman brushed one streak of blonde hair from her face.

"Of course. My name is Noryoku Damasu," she said while opening her eyes and turning her head to the sun, "and whether you believe me or not, I am here to help you." She watched Tatewaki out of the corner of her eye, examining what type of reactions he was having. He seemed to be calm on the outside; however Noryoku could sense that he was confused and feeling rather aggressive; a dangerous combination indeed.

"You have still not answered my question, Noryoku Damasu, of how you know my name," Tatewaki growled, a dangerous edge in his voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. Noryoku's smile slowly faded, and her features hardened considerably. She turned her back to Kuno, looking out at the surrounding foliage, her brown and blonde hair swirling about her face.

"Answer me you odious minx or I shall-" the boy began, his handsome features contorting to anger while he drew his bokken and pointed it squarely at Noryoku's back.

"How many nights have you dreamed dreams of anger?" she quietly said, cutting the boy's angry rattle off. Kuno's stance and bokken faltered.

"What do you. . .?" he asked, not sure of what else to say. The woman stood unmoving, not facing Tatewaki as she gazed at the lands before her.

"You are so full of rage, Tatewaki Kuno. How many nights have you imagined a rampaging fire overtaking you? Of flames swallowing you whole? The blissful yet terrible feeling of controlling your personal fire?" Noryoku asked in a hushed tone. Kuno felt numb all over; disbelief and shock running through his veins.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the baffled Kuno, who was gaping at her, his mouth somewhat open and hanging. Noryoku's eyes held a very deep sadness and an even deeper understanding for Tatewaki's predicament. Brown hair blew around her face as the wind steadily picked up around the clearing. Trees rustled and leaves danced around the two people standing, looking at each other.

Noryoku turned her face away once more. Kuno took an uncertain step forward; not sure what to do in the uncomfortable silence.

"You know about the dream I had?" Kuno asked in a meek and small tone, surprising him greatly. The girl emitted a low, hollow laugh, lifting her hands to the back of her head. She tugged at the knot holding the band over her forehead and began to undo it, her hands making fast work of the bound piece of cloth. Noryoku let the green headband flutter harmlessly to the ground by her high heeled boots. She turned around to face the young man behind her.

Positioned centrally on her forehead was what looked to be a blue-green jewel in the shape of a water droplet. The sun's rays glinted off of the beautiful gem, making it look like it was glowing in a surreal way. Tatewaki scrutinized the jewel; unsure of what to make of it. Almost as if sensing his question, Noryoku stepped towards Kuno and let her fingers trail softly across his forehead. Her eyes locked with his, and she raised herself nearly to Kuno's level on her tiptoes. Noryoku's deep red lips hovered precariously close to Tatewaki's ear.

"We are more alike than you think, Tatewaki Kuno," she whispered, her breath traveling down the back of his neck making Kuno shudder involuntarily. Noryoku cupped his face with both her hands, and held it steady. Her eyes searched his face for what seemed to be an eternity; Kuno feeling extremely awkward and nervous, while a look of sadness passed over Noryoku's pretty features. Although seriously doubting his sanity at the moment, Kuno could swear the jewel on Noryoku's forehead changed colour. . .

There was a snapping of twigs from behind the pair. Noryoku's head twisted around suddenly, her eyes searching the surrounding woods for any sign of human life. Quickly, she turned her face back towards Kuno; she stroked his cheek once with the back of her hand before running and jumping into a nearby tree, disappearing from Kuno's sight.

The Blue Thunder stood in the middle of the field, eventually sinking to his knees in pure, exhausted confusion. 

  
  


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Well, that was confusing and not very helpful, now wasn't it? Anyhoot. . . R/R s'il vous plait! ^_^

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Missions

  
  


Disclaimer: A crazy concept is a man running up and down the streets of Slartbartifast (a small, fictional suburb of Timmons, Ontario) wearing nothing but trouser socks and two sombreros made of cheese upon his head yelling "I'm a hamster, I'm a hamster!". An even crazier concept is that I own the characters used in this fanfic, which rightfully belong to Takahashi Rumiko and Viz. Just so's ya know.

  
  


Author's Notes: I'm SO sorry that the chapters have been so short! I'll try to make 'em longer. . . *sniff* Anyhoo, I realize it's also really confusing right now, but I promise I'll make it less foggy as it progresses. ^^;; Of course:

  
  


"..." indicates speech

'...' indicates thought

*=*=* indicates next scene in story

//~*~// indicates a dream sequence

  
  


Rating: Oh come ON. You ALREADY know what it is! ^_^

  
  


Hence, thou hast eyes laid upon the fourth episode of. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  
  
  


The sun painted its rays on the boy who knelt in the grassy field, a passing zephyr blowing through and sending ripples throughout the nature surrounding him. The woman was nowhere in sight and her only remainder was the scrap of green bandana she had discarded. His strong hands parted the grass and found the piece of cloth; the two shades of green a surprising contrast, making it easy to spot. Kuno picked it up and allowed his fingers to gently run over it, as if in hopes it would uncover the great mystery that had begun building itself around the teenaged kendoist. Kuno let his head hang in utter confusion; nothing was making sense anymore. What did the girl mean when she said that they were more alike than what he though? She was a skilled fighter, as was he, but beyond that, his mind drew a blank.

'There are the dreams, though. She knows about your dreams' a nagging voice at the back of Kuno's mind said, tugging at his memories, trying to make connections that didn't seem to exist. Kuno grasped the green bandana close to his chest, his mind trying to soak in all the information that had been thrown and, in most cases, beat senselessly into him from the mysterious woman Noryoku. 

Tatewaki was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't feel the presence or hear the person approaching him. A hand was placed on Tatewaki's shoulder, giving cause for Kuno to jump almost out of his skin; basic instinct telling him to get himself into a defensive position. Rolling on the soft green grass and ignoring his bruised ribs for the moment, Kuno grabbed his bokken and hunkered into a defensive crouch all in one, smooth motion. The boy's imploring and blazing grey eyes met with a pair of soft, concerned-looking blue ones. A once-over of the woman in front of him proved to Tatewaki who was standing in the clearing with him.

"Kodachi?" he asked, his defense wavering and his grip on his bokken loosening almost completely. The black haired girl clutched a shawl tightly to her chest; Kuno hadn't realized until just recently how exactly chilly the air was becoming. Running a hand through his mahogany hair, the kendoist stood warily on shaky legs, the pain in his ribs screaming. Instead of bringing attention to his wounds, Tatewaki chose to ignore them for fear of another trip to the hospital and the fat nurse with the roaming eyes. 

"Brother, what happened here?" Kodachi inquired, genuine concern showing in her melodic voice. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Kuno quickly reverted to his old self.

"'Twas nothing, dear sister," Tatewaki replied quietly, quickly pocketing the green bandana inside his robes, which were being tossed about by the wind. Kodachi narrowed her eyes.

"I come home to find that you have not returned from school, so I decide to seek you out. I find you knelt in the middle of a field marred by the remnants of a battle," Kodachi said, exasperated at the fact her brother wouldn't tell her what was going on with him, "and you truly think me so base that I would believe it was nothing?"

"I did not call you base, sister, but this is none of your concern," Tatewaki muttered, his tone low, deadly and biting. Kodachi's fist, which was now balled by her side, was positively shaking.

"Fine! Next time you are wounded, see if I come to find you out of loving concern!" the ebony haired gymnast replied, turning abruptly on her heel and heading back towards her mansion, stomping through the hole in the wall Kuno had created with his body earlier. A pang of regret shot through Kuno; or it could've been another wave of pain sent from his aching ribs, Tatewaki couldn't rightly tell at the moment, however he did feel guilty about causing Kodachi's anger.

'She came to find me out of loving concern? I suppose it could be possible; maybe that little black pig Akane Tendo carries around will soon sprout wings and fly into the horizon', Kuno sneered mentally. Sarcastic as he may have been in his mind, the teen boy couldn't help but think that perhaps Kodachi's words were true.

Confused about the whole situation of the day, Tatewaki stepped lightly around the wreckage of the wall and the uplifted turf of the meadow, clutching his ribs and biting back his yelps of pain as he made his way to the Kuno Mansion.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Blood flowed down the glinting katana freely, dripping onto the woman's black leather clad hands, and soon down to the floor, splattering at her feet. The red liquid dribbled down and off her black leather boots, the woman hardly caring. A body that had once belonged to a half-recognizable young man was tossed aside into a grisly heap of other young trainees who had tried to go up against her in combat - each of them meeting their respective ends at the tip of her trusty blade. She withdrew a small towel from her pocket and wiped her katana clean, giving it a bit of spit shine to make it glow in its silvery aura once more. Sheathing her weapon, the girl untied her long and glorious mane of orange hair, allowing it to fall lightly down past her waist. She pocketed her white piece of cloth that held her hair, and it disappeared into her tight, black leather skirt which clung to her shapely legs. Her top consisted of thin, leather shoulder straps encompassing the tops of her arms, and a very low cut leather top revealing an ample amount of cleavage, which stopped just below her breasts, exposing her well-buffed abdomen. She tossed her orange hair back playfully and opened her piercing turquoise eyes to observe the wonderful carnage that surrounded her. Puckering her ruby red lips in concentration, she wondered who was going to clean up the mess she left behind.

"Miss Meijin?" a male voice timidly asked of the leather-clad woman, who whirled around to face a young man with black hair and a simple, trainee outfit. The boy, who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, nearly gagged at the sight of the mutilated corpses in front of him. Staggering slightly, the young man tried his best not to lose face in front of the woman before him. A punishment worse than death could befall him if he did.

Naomi Meijin stared hard at the youth before her. He was obviously wet behind the ears and extremely nervous in her presence; that was a good thing. Fear instilled discipline, and discipline instilled loyalty. Loyalty would last until death; a very useful trait. The trainee shrunk back in spite of himself, his head dipping down slightly so as not to make eye contact. His hands tightly gripped his pant legs, fiddling with the material to distract himself from the situation at hand. Naomi could see that the boy's hands were trembling.

Her blood red lips curved upwards into a tight, lopsided smile.

"Yes?" Naomi asked of the trainee, her voice as smooth and velvety as chocolate, yet cold as ice at the same time. She observed an involuntary shudder run through the young boy as she spoke; he seemed to be deathly afraid of her. This thought pleased her greatly.

The young man's mouth seemed to work, though mechanically, however no sound came from his lips. Taking a precautionary step back in case his mistress's temper flared up without warning, like it tended to do, he searched his mind for the willpower to begin talking once more. He took a deep breath, and began speaking to his boss again in a quivering voice.

"M-Miss Me-i-i-jin, m-ma'am, our. . . our sources have l-l-located the position of A-Alpha P. . . Pand-d-dora, ma'am," the boy managed to say. For fear of vomiting on the spot, he kept his mouth shut after the initial and most important news was delivered to his employer, judge, jury and executioner, if need be. Naomi's azure eyes flashed for a moment, but gave no other sign of emotion to the youth. She turned around slowly, her hands clasped behind her back, as if in thought. The massive amount of black leather she was wearing emitted shifting and crinkling sounds as she moved slowly away from the trainee, her eyes focused ahead on the bloody heap of young bodies.

"Miss M-M-Mei -"

"Go," Naomi told the boy with a wave of her hand, keeping her back to him, "and find someone to clean up this mess." Her clipped British accent shone through. The boy, though not seen by Naomi, did a quick bow, uttered a "thank you ma'am", and ran out of the room as politely and as fast as his legs could carry him. Once Naomi could no longer sense the clumsy stripling in her room, she slowly moved to a desk near the front of the room. The carpet was a deep crimson, the desk a maroon-tinted mahogany, with a red lamp, assorted papers and a vermillion coloured laptop computer adorning the piece of furniture. She pulled up a chair to her desk, the scent of blood and decay starting to seep in from the very back of the board. Attached to the rear of her office was a small but adequate dojo, separated by a traditional Japanese sliding paper door. Naomi hadn't bothered to close the door this time, although the nauseating smell of blood began wafting out of the dojo and into the carpets. It didn't matter to Miss Meijin though; she had left the door open on purpose. The dead bodies were displayed for anyone daring to enter her office; whether the macabre sight of the disemboweled youths would serve as a threat, a warning, or a trophy depended on the person entering the doorway to Naomi's personal sanctum. Blood was still seeping from the expired trainees, staining the smooth wooden floor with a sickly red colour.

The orange haired beauty could care less about her carpet or the dojo's floor at the moment. If the young boy was correct (and he had better be, or he would be joining the other young men in the bloody mess of the dojo as well), Alpha Pandora had finally been tracked. After all those years of waiting, the seeds Naomi and her ancestors had planted long ago would hopefully bear ripe fruit; the leather clad woman could only hope at the moment, although she had some of her best agents at hand should anything not go according to her plan.

Naomi leaned back in the chair, hefting her large, clunky boots onto the desk and tipping her head back, allowing her fingers and long orange hair to drape over the carpet. Above Naomi were various types of weaponry suspended from the ceilings, each representing an important part of the history of her career and those before her. Her turquoise eyes glistened in excitement; if everything indeed was going to plan, she would be a very rich woman and finally be able to fulfill the legacy that her mother had left her with, the legacy of Project Pandora.

The woman smiled dangerously. Quickly sitting upright in her chair and opening her red lap top computer, Naomi logged into her account, accessing her folder for the most recent messages and advancements in the project. Sure enough, a newly sent and unopened document sat in the computer's data banks, waiting to be scanned and processed. Naomi clicked on the file, and began to read. Ever so slightly, her mouth twisted upwards until, by the time she was finished with the document, Naomi had a full-fledged wicked grin on her face. Saving the file and hitting the 'print' button on her laptop, Naomi cleared some of the clutter off her desk and pressed the round button on the intercom, a shrill beeping sound permeating the area for a few seconds.

"Miss Pascale? Would you please send in Miss Bara?" Naomi asked politely, her curt and professional tone carrying through the intercom. A few seconds later, the door adjacent to her desk opened with an almost inaudible click, and a very statuesque woman entered. She had short black hair cut severely at her shoulders, and piercing blood-red eyes. Her skin was extremely pale; almost white, contrasting completely with the black outfit she adorned. It was like a mini dress of sorts, with a haltered top exposing a fair amount of cleavage, a thick red sash encircling her waist with a katana hanging off her left hip, and two broad pieces of black cloth covering her most private areas, her well-toned thighs visible. Padding quietly on the carpet, the effect of not wearing shoes was amazing. She simply wore black ankle bands and wrist bands; the sound from her feet were almost nonexistent, which was one of the many goals of ninja such as she. The woman's deep red lips didn't move; her face betraying no emotion whatsoever to Naomi.

"Kurai Bara. Punctual, as usual," Naomi said in a very businesslike tone. Of course, since they were about to discuss business of the utmost importance, her tone was very appropriate. The ninja woman didn't reply, only stared stonily at Naomi. The British woman wasn't at all fazed by her behaviour; Kurai was typically a quiet, moody, and extremely psychotic girl, and by now Naomi was used to her subordinate's quirks. Silence filled the room as the computer printer churned out the last sheet of paper from the file Naomi had previously read. The leather dressed woman briskly walked over to the printer and snatched up the papers, quickly and efficiently filing them into an inconspicuous looking manilla envelope. She handed it to Kurai, who took it and opened the jacket containing the necessary information, scanning the words printed on the sheets.

"It is your next assignment, Miss Bara. So far our progress on Project Pandora has been at a snails pace, wouldn't you agree?" Naomi asked nonchalantly, crossing from her place in front of Kurai to her desk, taking a seat in her comfortable chair. Kurai never took her gaze off the sheets she had been handed, but replied anyway.

"There has not been as much fresh blood as I would have liked," Kurai said quietly, her voice barely audible but distinct and eerily empty. Naomi sighed audibly.

"Yes, I understand your feelings on that matter. Lately I have found myself killing those annoying new trainees that we seem to be recruiting daily," Naomi explained, gesturing with her gloved hand to the carnage behind her. The orange haired woman didn't know exactly why she did that; Kurai's senses were extremely keen, and could have probably smelled the blood's distinct odor through the wooden sienna door Kurai had entered through. Kurai nodded.

"They are unsatisfactory and. . . inadequate," Kurai stated, looking Naomi directly in the eye with her last statement. Smirking, Naomi tossed her flame coloured hair over her shoulder and hoisted her feet onto the desk. The black haired ninja returned her attention to the mission she held in her hands. After a few minutes, Kurai seemed to be finished the debriefing of what needed to be done.

"It seems to -"

"Simple?" Naomi finished for Kurai, closing her eyes, "that's what I thought as well. Be careful though; he is, after all, Alpha Pandora. He is bound to have tricks up his sleeve." Kurai assented her superior's remark begrudgingly with scarcely a nod of her head. Naomi Meijin, as quickly as she had sat down, swung her legs down from her desk and stood up, striding across the room to the door. 

"I trust you'll have this under your capable control, Miss Bara," Naomi stated without looking at the deadly ninja, blowing past her and to the mahogany exit from her office. 

"Yes ma'am," Kurai agreed, an icy undertone tagging along with her statement. Naomi sighed silently and began to leave her office, opening the door with a slight creaking sound and stepping outside the prefecture of her study. She paused for a moment in the doorway, sensing a sort of small distress from Kurai. Naomi gave a small laugh.

"Of course, how could I forget. Help yourself," Naomi whispered, closing the door behind her and leaving Kurai alone in her office. A sly and barely visible grin made itself apparent on her ghostly white face as she walked past her employer's desk and, bowing at the doorframe, into the dojo, where the slowly decaying bodies were still strewn unceremoniously about, blood stains marking places of death and destruction all along the dojo floor and walls. Kurai spotted the freshest looking kill of the batch, and knelt by his side. His head was completely severed from his body, his face completely submerged in a small pool of his own life force. Kurai's ashen fingers let themselves run through the young boy's curly blonde locks, wiping them from his eyes, which had been profusely bleeding. She cupped his head in her small hands and lifted it up so both faces were staring eye to what had once been an eye. Carefully, as if ceremoniously, she lolled it in her hands, allowing her fingers to discover every crevice and cut on the young boy's head. Finally, after turning the head upside down, she was staring at the man's amputated neck. The blood, gore, and disgusting flesh was painfully visible; however it all heightened Kurai's experience. She lifted it to her already cherry red lips.

Her sense of taste was also exceedingly acute.

  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Well, that was disturbing. O_o Um, well, reviews appreciated! ^_^ The next chapter, something really exciting happens, I promise! ^^;; Once again, R/R! 

  
  



	5. Losses

  
  


Disclaimer: It's interesting that you should ask if I own the characters used in this story. Believe me, it has an equally interesting and complicated story behind it, which I'll start by explaining how I got the copyri - hey, what's that over there? *runs as fast as my feet can carry me which, all things considered, is quite slow* Heh heh heh. A brilliant plan. . .

  
  


Rating: It's still 'R' for miscellaneous stuff, like swearing, violence, etc. Read at your own risk!

  
  


Author's Notes: Well, that last chapter was quite disturbing, ne? Don't worry, it gets even MORE unsettling hereon in. *_* Although, this chapter here gives a bit of an introspective into Kuno's life; not much, but a little. 

On a different note, I'd like to say a big thanks to everybody who's reviewed, especially Silver Sunshine/Silver Phoenix and Naomi Athena. Without you two, I don't know where I'd be. ^_^ Best (creative writing) buds I've ever had the pleasure of knowing; also, Naomi did this KICK ASS pic of Noryoku, Naomi, and Kurai. Here's the address if you wish to see: http://meep.homestead.com/files/pandora.jpg Isn't it absolutely fantastical? O_O She's so very talented. . .

  
  


Anyhoot, finished in its entirety for your reading pleasure is Chapter 5 of. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Dinner was an oppressively quiet affair at the Kuno household that night. While thankful that Kodachi had not cooked that night (he feared that in his weakened condition his body wouldn't be able to properly handle the toxins the food would be saturated in), Tatewaki simply couldn't bring himself out of his thoughts; indeed a very unusual and hard feat under normal circumstances. However, as Kuno had relented, these certainly were not normal circumstances.

Chewing his delicately prepared sushi mechanically, Tatewaki's downcast, unfocused eyes and passionless face were propped up by his left hand, his elbow resting on the table. His right hand fiddled with the immaculately carved wooden chopsticks, unconsciously moving them between his fingers in a pattern as he analyzed the events of the day. Mysteriously, the movement of the wooden utensils in his fingers matched the rhythmic tick-tocks the grandfather clock near the end wall emitted, but still not managing to cut through the biting silence.

Kodachi sat on the opposite end of the table from her elder brother. She daintily used her chopsticks to pick up a piece of sushi, loll it around in soy sauce for a moment, and tentatively take a bite. It was extraordinarily delicious; although Kodachi paid little mind to the taste. Her dark brown eyes were locked on her brother at the far end of the dining table; the lamp in the corner, she noticed, cast an odd glow on Tatewaki, shadowing his features in a most peculiar way. Since it was nighttime and the Kuno's always kept the lighting low (a personal preference on both siblings' part), her brother's head position shielded his eyes from view. It was a shame; Kodachi firmly believed that a person's eyes were the window to their soul, and usually her theory held true. When she gazed into the eyes of her beloved Ranma, she could see the love and warmth held deep within; despite the fact that he never showered her in his affections and adoration for her, the young Kuno sister knew it was there. Although she could usually see love in her own brother's eyes, it was usually a fiery, lusty passion for those vile wenches Akane Tendo and The Pigtailed Girl. Once in a while though, when her eyes met his and she could see deep within his soul, she found a young man very detached from those around him; almost as if he was lost in a foreign land without hope of ever returning home. Kodachi couldn't quite explain how she perceived these things; perhaps because the same, familial blood ran through their veins, they had a connection they couldn't quite see, maybe even beyond the traditional role of brother and sister.

However, the rhythmic gymnast was still ticked at her brother's odd behaviour. He wasn't telling her something very important; Kodachi could feel it, choosing to think of it as "woman's intuition" - not to mention the fact she came upon him battered and bruised, and obviously injured. Although a gymnast, both her brother and Ranma-darling were constantly at odds; Ranma always came out on top, which left Tatewaki to come home bruised most days of the week. She wasn't a stranger to battle of either kendo or martial arts, and Kodachi was smart enough to know what the aftermath of a fight in Nerima left: destruction. Hence the given name for Nerima's most prominent martial artists; "The Nerima Wrecking Crew". It certainly held true.

Kodachi scrutinized Tatewaki between bites of her cucumber sushi that their manservant Sasuke had prepared. She hadn't been in the mood to cook up one of her deadly delicacies that night; poisoning the family dog Armadillo and her brother with cyanide cleverly disguised as soba noodles just didn't hold the same appeal as it did the other day. Sighing inwardly, the black haired woman finally resigned her soul-searching of Tatewaki and directed her attention to the food sitting on her plate. While the taste was exceptionally palatable, she suddenly wasn't very hungry. Sliding her plate away from her and pushing her heavy mahogany chair outwards and away from the table, the scraping noise seemed to startle Tatewaki out of whatever reverie he was having. He dropped his chopsticks, which clattered noisily in the stoic atmosphere of the dining area, but failing to bring forth from either of the siblings' lips conversation. Kuno watched his sister leave the dinner table in a hurried fashion, tracing the sound of her footsteps with his fairly sharp hearing to her gymnastics room. After a few minutes of sitting still and simply listening to the sound, or lack thereof, in the house, the familiar creaking of the trampoline had begun. The walls of the Kuno mansion were notoriously thin.

The kendoist found himself rising from the table as well. Having not uttered a single word during his meal, Kuno felt a bit restless and on the edge. Leaving his plates for Sasuke to clean, Tatewaki padded down an extremely long, wooded hallway, gloriously lacquered and preserved over the ages. Lamps of low lighting hung from the relatively high ceiling, casting its solemn rays upon the boy walking through, but the diminutive light seemed to rest on a small, almost out of the way table perched against the wall to Kuno's right. It was covered by a lovely red and gold tablecloth, and had various items on it; a comb, a pair of beautiful ruby earrings, and a framed picture containing a lone figure with glorious black hair and smiling brown eyes. She looked genuinely happy; her deep crimson and gold tinged yukata beautifully accented the best parts of her physique, and the roses she held in her hands were brought up to chin level.

Tatewaki's mother was a true gem in her lifetime. The boy slowly came to a halt in front of the small shrine to his mother who was beautiful in both looks and heart, from what he could remember. He was very young when she died; he couldn't have been more than eight years old when she passed away. Despite the fact that he was quite young, he had a deep love for her; in fact, he still did. Tatewaki had always remembered mother having roses in her hands or around her at almost all times; she was quite fond of the rose. In turn, she had passed that trait down to both her children: Tatewaki loved the deep red roses, while Kodachi favoured the black rose. At least that part of his mother was alive and well.

After taking a few moments to pray to kami for his mother's sake, he continued down the hallway, thoughts heavy in his mind. He wanted nothing more than for a strenuous kendo practice in the dojo, however his injured ribs prevented him from doing anything of the kind. Cursing his bad luck, Tatewaki decided that the next best thing to do was to meditate on the happenings of the day. 

'Perhaps it will clear my mind' Kuno thought, heading in the direction of his private meditation room. A few minutes of navigating through the Kuno estate later, and the kendoist found himself in front of the sliding paper door in front of one of his only places of solitude in the world. Stepping inside the room and sliding the white paper door shut behind him, Kuno quietly and discreetly made his way to a low shelf containing his incense, candles, and matches. Striking a match and setting it aflame, he lit the incense and allowed the relaxing scent to fill the room. He then strung two paper lamps on opposite sides of his meditation mat. Kuno blew out the match and made a mental note to throw it out later as he found his way in the dark to his meditation pad, quickly getting himself into the lotus position. His eyes still open, he could see the posters of both Akane Tendo and the Pigtailed Girl hung up in front of him. A smile attempted to forge its way onto Kuno's face, but didn't quite make it. While the beauteous Akane and the lovely Pigtailed Girl were the radiant lights in his life, he knew he had to have his mind as clear as possible if his meditation session was going to work; and given the occurrences of the day, it was going to be hard.

The boy took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled, keeping the rhythm of his breathing low and steady. The aesthetics of the world disappeared slowly into oblivion, and the earth itself seemed to collapse into a void of non-existence as consciousness and unconsciousness waged war on Kuno's emotionally exhausted mind. Unconsciousness soon won the battle though; his mind slipping away from the realities of life and turning his focus deep into himself. . .

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


Stretching as far as the eye could see was a desert, its dust and sand swirling around his bare feet and beginning to burn his toes. The sun was high and hot, causing Kuno to shield his eyes for the most part. The region around him was flat and stark, the only signs of life except for him was scattered vegetation which was starting to die anyway. Tatewaki squinted his eyes, trying to see if there was any shade from the intense heat of the sun; to his surprise, Kuno spotted a simple-looking door in front of him that wasn't there before. Blinking a couple times in confusion, the boy approached the plain, wooden door, experimentally touching the brass doorknob with his right hand. When nothing dangerous or deadly happened, he twisted the handle and opened the door; Kuno was met by a blast of cool, refreshing wind and darkness. He entered through the doorway, and found himself bathed in darkness, the only light emanating from the burning sun behind him. Not wanting to lose the bit of light he had, Kuno left the door ajar and took a step forward in the relative darkness. Quickly, the door behind him slammed shut and promptly disappearing, leaving a dead end behind Kuno. 

Just as Tatewaki was about to damn his bad luck, the room he was in suddenly illuminated. Hundreds of chandeliers containing hundreds of separate candles mysteriously burst to life, starting with the chandeliers directly above Kuno's head and proceeding down the length of the room, each one making the long room brighter and brighter. Once all the light pieces were aflame and glowing steadily, Kuno drank in his plush surroundings. The cool floor he was standing on was a gorgeous, hunter green marble, and the walls were of the same colour and make. The enclosures of the room ascended beyond Kuno's vision, and various plaster, marble, stone and other types of statues were spaced around the sides of the room. Tatewaki quietly made his way over to a particular statue that caught his eye; it seemed to made of glass, and was painted in beautiful, hushed colours. It was a statue of a woman transcending traditional beauty; her eyes were open and a brilliant blue, her hair wafting out behind here coloured a pale blonde, and wearing layers upon layers of kimono robes, each more complicated and detailed than the last. She carried a large bow and a sack of arrows on her back; however the thing that struck Kuno most was the large wings spread out on her back. They were transparent and immaculately carved; Kuno felt that at any moment, the beautiful woman could take off in flight. The flickering light of the chandelier candles bounced off the colours and through the wings, giving the statue a surreal, ravishing glow. Tatewaki didn't dare touch it; thinking that perhaps his unworthy and dirty hands would permanently damage or even completely shatter the delicate masterpiece before him. Although transfixed in a stare with the glass angel, Kuno's ears were still alert and picked up the sounds of hard shoes clicking on the marbled floor. Reluctantly, he turned his head from the radiant statue towards the sound. He was immediately glad he did.

"Pigtailed girl!" the kendoist said happily, a smile etching itself onto Kuno's face. His love had her ruby red hair in its usual hairstyle, this time accented with glittering gold and red butterfly clips on both sides of her head and matching earrings and tiara, which had a white veil attached to it. Her well-built body was covered in a carefully and beautifully designed white wedding gown, with a large red bow on the back of it. The front was lacy and left her shoulders bare, but covered both arms and chest fully. The bottom skirt part of it was large and flowed around her like liquid, following her every movement. Although she looked to be almost intangible, she truly looked like a goddess.

Smiling, Kuno's Pigtailed Girl turned around and half jumped, half glided along the marble floor to a staircase which lead to an upper corridor. Tatewaki bounded after her; though he didn't notice that he wasn't walking but floating as well, he couldn't seem to quite catch her. He followed her up a grand, marble staircase, the candles dispersing a now pink-tinged glow on the room. The Pigtailed Girl giggled happily as she bounced backwards, now facing Tatewaki as she continued down the second floor corridor, which had wide, open arches to Kuno's left to see down on the marble floor and the first floor's statues and furniture, and deep chestnut doors with different markings to his right. Running as fast as he could towards the Pigtailed Girl though getting almost nowhere, Kuno saw his beautiful goddess stop in front of one of the mahogany entrances. Smiling a dazzling, heart-wrenching smile, the red-haired beauty opened the door and stepped inside, disappearing from Tatewaki's view. Gliding towards the door himself, Kuno opened it, expecting to see his Tree Borne Kettle Girl inside awaiting his arrival. Instead, a most unsettling view greeted the young kendoist.

Ranma Saotome, the most vile, treacherous martial artist to ever exist, sat on a bed, cradling The Pigtailed Girl in his arms. Her blood spilled out over his hands and onto the bedspread and floor, staining the once white carpet a deep crimson. Her blue eyes were open and unfocused; cuts and bruises marred her beautiful features, and her wedding gown was slowly becoming a rich scarlet colour. Blood dribbled down her lips, her arms, and her legs. Kuno felt like throwing up; he could already feel the bile rising in his throat.

Ranma simply smirked, tracing the side of The Pigtailed Girl's face with a blood soaked dagger. Making a cross-shaped scar on her ghostly white cheek and allowing the blood to drip onto his fingers, the black haired martial artist looked up at Kuno. His eyes held a sense of victory and smugness as he unceremoniously dropped the dead girl to the ground. Tatewaki's hands shook in unblemished rage and complete abhorrence for the murderer in front of him. The candles were ablaze, the fire raging in the chandeliers threatening to overwhelm the wicks on the candles, matching and reflecting Kuno's rage. In a pure, chaotic frenzy, the enraged kendoist charged at Ranma, yelling at the top of his lungs, yet never discharging a sound. He swung his balled fist, aiming for Ranma's face. The pigtailed boy snickered and dodged easily, acting nonchalantly, as if nothing had just happened. The fire in Kuno's eyes burned uncontrollably as he aimed another punch at the boy, missing his mark once again. Ducking the blow easily, Ranma took his already blood encrusted dagger and made a clean cut across Kuno's cheek, drawing blood and infuriating Tatewaki even more. A soundless but undoubtedly animalistic growl escaped Kuno's mouth as he successfully body checked Saotome into a wall, causing it to crack. Ranma slumped to ground, unconscious, leaving a tiny streak of blood on the wall from where he slid down. His breath shaky, Kuno fell to his knees, wiping away the blood that was trickling down his face from the cut Ranma had given him; the cut given to him from the same dagger that took the life of his beloved Pigtailed Goddess. . .

He crawled over to the girl on the floor, her life force still pouring out of the various wounds sustained at the hands of the foul and murderous Ranma Saotome. Tears clung to the corners of the boy's eyes as he gently caressed The Pigtailed Girl's cheek where Ranma had cut her; the cross-shaped scar looked to be very deep. Her lifeless blue eyes stared up at his grey ones, which were brimming with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. Trembling fingers closed the woman's eyelids; despite her gory and blood-soaked skin, she looked almost at peace. 

The tears streamed freely down Kuno's face, muted and choked sobs coming forth from his mouth. He clutched her body protectively against his chest, blood soaking clear through his yukata and sticking to his skin. The candle's deathly blue glow illuminated the sad scene in the bedroom; Kuno rocked her back and forth gently, the only sound to be heard was the thumping of his heavy heart. Kissing her forehead tenderly and resting his head on top of hers, Tatewaki tried to block out everything that had just happened, but found it to be impossible. 

Tatewaki was startled when he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder. His eyes now open, he turned his head around to meet the gaze of worried and concerned brown eyes. Kodachi stood in front of her brother, her petite hand lying on Kuno's broad shoulder, in a comforting sort of way. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulders, not up in the usual side ponytail she usually wore, but simply let down. Kodachi's pale yellow sun dress hugged her body, yet didn't reveal much of her skin at all, save some of her legs and her arms. She was quite lovely, Kuno noted in his foggy and emotional mind. 

The light that seemed to surround Kodachi permeated the darkness; when Kodachi opened her arms to Kuno, he didn't resist in hugging her for comfort and support. Her gentle arms wrapped around her brother's back, allowing him to sob soundlessly on her shoulder. After a few moments, Kuno's weeping began to subside. When he lifted his head from his sister's shoulder, he found himself in a grassy meadow dotted with wild flowers of all different shapes and colours; each beautiful in their own way. A soft breeze wafted through the field, and butterflies flitted about the flowers, one landing on Kuno's shoulder. Its beautiful saffron wings beat in rhythm with his heart, and took off into the sky after a few seconds. Smiling despite himself, Tatewaki turned his face to see his sister grinning happily as she set a picnic under the shade of a large and elegant looking tree. Kuno made his way through the thick grass, which felt wonderful under his bare feet, and to the blanket Kodachi sat upon which was littered with all different types of food. A candle was in the middle of the blanket, glowing a bright and contenting yellow. It all seemed so perfect; the scenery, the food, and even his inner being - it all felt so serene, peaceful, and happy. What was he so depressed about just a few minutes ago? For the life of him, Kuno couldn't remember. He also briefly wondered why there was so much blood all over his clothing. . .

It hit him like a ton of bricks. With a start, Tatewaki remembered exactly why he was covered in the deep crimson blood; his Pigtailed Goddess was dead. She was murdered by Ranma Saotome! A mix of emotions ran through Kuno, who was starting to get upset. Angry, extremely depressed, yet happy despite it all; Kuno was confused. Stumbling away from the picnic basket, he saw the flame on the candle flicker suddenly out of existence.

  
  


//~*~//

  
  


His eyes opened with a start and a sharp gasp of air. He wasn't in the meadow or the large marble room anymore; he was staring ahead at two posters of the beautiful Akane Tendo and his Pigtailed Goddess; swivelling his head around, he saw the incense he had been burning was nothing more than a batch of smoldering sticks. He recognized this room as his place of meditation, his sanctuary from the outside world.

'None of that was real' Kuno concluded mentally, sighing as he uncrossed his legs and got out of the lotus position. He allowed his face to drop into his hands; he was tired, and this time his meditation left him with more questions than answers. Running his left hand through his hair, he realized he felt a wetness on his right hand. Looking down in the dim light, Kuno could make out a deep coloured liquid. Tatewaki unhinged one of the paper lanterns from the wall and shone its light on his hand.

Blood. There was blood on his hand from where his cheek was resting in it. With his left hand, Kuno stroked the right side of his cheek and, sure enough, it was bleeding. Feeling the cut, Kuno recognized the shape of the gash.

It was from where Ranma had cut him in his meditation journey. Looking down, he saw and felt his yukata was also soaked in blood - from when he was holding the Pigtailed Girl in his arms. His eyes wide and unbelieving, Tatewaki ran from the meditation room as fast as he possibly could, hastily opening and slamming the sliding door shut behind him as he took off towards the main entrance of the Kuno mansion.

He needed to get away from his house, his sister, his family for a while. He needed to think; he needed answers. 

He needed to find Noryoku.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


"Stupid tomboy," Ranma muttered, walking down the street with his hands in his pockets. Gingerly, he touched the protruding bump on his head, from where he had been on the receiving end of one of Akane's malleting and more violent outbursts as of late.

"All I said was that her cooking was toxic, nuthin' she hasn't heard before," he said with a sigh, wandering down the sidewalk, "no reason to throw me outta the house." Angry at his predicament, he continued down the street, muttering the entire while. It had all started when Akane had so joyously announced that she was cooking dinner that night, without Kasumi's supervision. The entire family was scared beyond belief; however Ranma was especially frightened. Akane had been rather touchy the entire day; the smallest slight and she would send Ranma sailing through the roof and, most often, into a nearby source of cold water. It was indeed a nuisance to have to search for hot water in a soaking wet shirt with a buxom chest; the leers alone drove Ranma to want to do some very violent things to the "innocent" bystanders, never mind the disgusting comments the male population whispered to one another. His martial arts training had greatly enhanced his senses, much to his chagrin. Remarks about the size of his chest were that more clear to his ears, he could see exactly where they men were looking, and, frankly, he didn't want to get into the other senses for fear of vomiting on the spot. Smell was the worst when Akane was cooking, which brought him back to the reason why he was wandering the streets of Nerima, giving Akane time to cool off. Luckily he didn't land anywhere near cold water this time, so he was at least walking at night as a male. The fact was of little comfort; he was tired, hungry, and in pain.

In fact, Ranma was so distracted he didn't even see the person running around the corner, coming straight for him. The pigtailed boy barely looked up before he crashed full-force into whoever was running down the street. Dazed but okay, Ranma blinked his eyes a couple times to recover from the surprise, and hefted himself up into a semi-sitting position. He rubbed the already tender back of his head, ready to chew the head off of whoever smacked into him.

"Watch where you're goin' next time, will ya?" Ranma asked in an annoyed tone, looking with disdain at whoever had run into him. The other young man was wearing a traditional yukata and hakima; Ranma had a sinking feeling as to who it was. Once the boy was sitting up, the pigtailed martial artist's suspicions were confirmed.

"Kuno, why am I not surprised," Ranma grumbled, standing up fully and getting into a fighting stance in preparation for what was undoubtedly to come. Kuno also stood up, looking at Ranma in his martial arts pose. Looking at the boy in the face, flashbacks of his excruciatingly real meditation session assaulted him; Ranma killing his beloved, Ranma spilling his and the Pigtailed Girl's blood in pure spite and evilness. The trembling in his hands had returned in its entirety, his fists shaking by his sides, his eyes narrowing dangerously. It took everything he had not to simply lash out and kill him in the spot.

He then remembered that it was merely something occurring mentally in his head; however the wounds were quite real, which sharply reminded him of the reason he was running around the streets of Nerima late at night. 

Ranma waited patiently for the inevitable Shakespearean-esque babble of the upperclassman, keeping his martial arts stance. His eyes flicked across Kuno's face; there was a large gash under his right eye that was still bleeding. Ranma's gaze wandered down to his shoulders, chest, and arms; Ranma figured he may have already been in a fight, not a big deal, but not something normal for Kuno to his knowledge. However, Ranma was extremely shocked when he saw the blood all over his traditional samurai garb; splotches of it were all over his chest and mid-section, some of it turning an ugly brownish colour. Kuno's eyes, Ranma noticed, also looked weary, and his face was sort of drawn. His hands were also trembling.

"Kuno, man, are you okay?" Ranma asked, a worried tone slipping into his voice. He relaxed his stance slightly as he saw Kuno's eyes cloud over and harden. Biting his lip, the kendoist closed his eyes for a moment, and simply ran past a bewildered Ranma, heading down the street until he was out of view. Small droplets of blood pocked the cement of the sidewalk, displaying the path Tatewaki had taken to wherever he was going. Ranma, genuinely worried, debated whether he should follow the boy or just let him go on his own. He sat in indecision for a few seconds before deciding to let the kendoist sort things out by himself. Getting tangled up in Kuno business tended to be more annoying than it was worth; although he couldn't help but think of the massive amount of blood the young man had on his clothes. He made a mental note to get around to asking him sometime later; preferably after he'd had something to eat. Ranma sighed and took off in the general direction of 'Ucchan's'. A steaming hot okonomiyaki sounded like a good idea to his rumbling stomach, although Ranma was sure to pay the price of being fed non-toxic food once Akane found out.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Kuno stumbled down the sidewalk, finally stopping under the pool of light the street lamp created. Sighing shakily, he tried to organize his thoughts into a rational pattern; his encounter with Saotome was certainly of no help to his situation. At least he had avoided a fight, although barely. Turning down a challenge, though indirect, was a very hard thing for Tatewaki to do; it usually caused his downfall, but nonetheless he was proud of not being a coward, never backing down from a fight no matter what the odds. He thought of it as bravery; his sister had often called it blatant stupidity. No matter. There was no confrontation, allowing him more time to search for Noryoku. At the moment, the only place Kuno could think of her being would be the meadow they had first met; it was a long shot, but it was still a shot. The sound of his pounding heart was all that he could hear as he raced towards the destroyed brick wall, which looked exactly the same as before. Stepping carefully over the rubble and shrapnel of the brick and mortar, Kuno entered the clearing. His eyes focused upon a lone figure lying in the middle of the field, who looked to be female. His feet crunched the grass and leaves beneath him as he approached the woman in the meadow; upon closer inspection he could see brown hair with two yellow streaks.

Noryoku. His luck had just made a complete turnaround; silently thanking the gods, Kuno approached the woman who was on her back, looking up at the stars, her legs crossed over one another. Her right hand was outstretched with her index finger pointing at the sky and tracing an invisible picture across the vast stretch of stars. Although a bit mystified as to why Noryoku was doing such a thing, Kuno wasted no time in making his way over to the woman. Tatewaki, fidgeting and a bit uncomfortable, began to speak.

"Nor - " The kendoist was promptly cut off by Noryoku's left hand raising in a gesture of silence. Kuno stopped talking and watched as she continued to draw the imaginary illustration, her hand swishing in fluid motions across her heavenly canvas and creating a painting only she could see. A bit frustration at his lack of conversational progress with the girl, Tatewaki insisted on speaking.

"Noryoku Damasu, it is of the utmost importance that I speak with you! It concerns my - "

"You talk too much, has anyone ever told you that?" the brunette answered calmly, continuing to create her invisible masterpiece. Tilting her head backwards, she met the gaze of a confused and aggressive Tatewaki Kuno. Despite the absurdity of her position, the seriousness of Kuno's situation permeated the vicinity of the two people in the field. Patting a soft patch of grass beside her and resuming her original laid back position, Kuno reluctantly sat down beside the girl and watched her continue to draw.

"May I ask what the point of this is?" Tatewaki inquired in an annoyed and urgent tone. Noryoku, instead of ignoring or cutting Kuno off like she had done so many times before, she simply looked at him, a strangely calm expression on her face. A small smile glided onto her face, her eyes becoming soft.

"Watch," Noryoku breathed, her mellifluous voice carrying on the breeze to meet Kuno's ears. Once again, Noryoku lifted her hand to the sky and outstretched her finger, pointing to the macrocosm above them. Instead of swishing her finger in an invisible pattern like Tatewaki had witness before, something completely incredible happened. Noryoku closed her emerald green eyes, and a soft yellow glow protruded from her forehead, taking the shape of a water-dropped jewel between her eyebrows. The same coloured light began to glisten on her forefinger; it slowly glowed brighter and brighter until it piqued at an intense saffron colour, continuously illuminating her finger. Although she still had her eyes closed, Noryoku began to use her finger much to the effect of a paintbrush on the galaxy above; when moving her finger about, a solid gold trail was left behind, like some sort of ethereal pigment on a beautifully intricate canvas. Kuno watched in utter astonishment as she continued to draw, playing connect-the-dots with the stars above her. Finally, after a few minutes of painting with the most supernatural pallet Kuno had ever seen, the boy shifted his gaze so it was at the same level as Noryoku's. Displayed for him was the gold, sparkling version of Orion the Hunter, his brilliant flaxen body scintillating in Kuno's wide eyes, not really believing what he was seeing. 

Noryoku's eyelids opened, allowing her forest green eyes to behold the masterpiece she had just created. Stealing a glance at Kuno's bewildered face, Noryoku laughed a tiny, almost inaudible chuckle at the sight of child-like wonder visible on Tatewaki's expressions. Shifting her gaze back to her picture, she raised her right hand to her painting and swirled it around in the gold body of Orion, disrupting the colour until it was no more. The ochre pixels of the painting lightly sprinkled themselves onto Kuno's face and hair, covering him in the glitter Noryoku had created. After a few seconds, the shimmering gold disappeared into nothingness, not a trace of it to be found anywhere.

Tatewaki turned his surprised eyes to meet with Noryoku's smiling ones. His mouth working but with no sound coming out, he attempted to communicate the millions of thoughts rushing through his head. Finally, after a few deep breaths, Kuno felt he was ready to speak.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Kuno's eyes were still scanning the heavens for any trace of the mysterious and unworldly picture Noryoku had created. Leaning in closely to Tatewaki, her eyes still locked onto his confused grey ones, she took his large hand into her relatively small one. She guided his hand up to his own forehead, using his own palm to push up his bangs, exposing the part of his face above his eyebrows. 

"Magic, Tatewaki Kuno. Magic like you've never dreamed of before."

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


She stared at the outside world through her thick window, watching the stars and the moon from her place on her bed. Drawing up her white comforter dotted with tiny black roses, she let out a sigh, allowing her ebony hair to tumble over her eyes and shoulders. The day had been a less than pleasant one for Kodachi Kuno: Her brother had fallen sick in the morning, and visiting him in the hospital apparently cost her a much needed practice for the upcoming Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Meet, or MARG Competition, that was to take place in a few months. Further more, when she finally returned home after her coach chewing her head off for skipping that practice (some well placed poisons brewed in chemistry would fix him, as he would soon find out tomorrow), she finds her brother missing after walking out with him from the hospital. Since she found him lying in the midst of a demolished brick wall, he had been acting extremely strange. On top of that, she had not seen Ranma Darling once! It was a bit much for Kodachi to take; her nerves had been frayed for the past few days for Kami only knows what reason, and examinations at school were approaching. Sure, with her outstanding wealth she could just pay the headmaster for guaranteed tuition, but didn't that defeat the purpose of exams? She was also physically exhausted; the rigorous gymnastics workout she had left her quite tired in the bodily sense. Though various floor routines and trampoline practices left the muscles aching and craving sleep, her mind just wouldn't stop thinking enough to allow her eyes to shut and the dreamworld to overtake her. It annoyed her greatly.

Stretching her throbbing arms and legs out, Kodachi's silken white night gown cooled her body, its soft touch massaging her muscles and feeling quite nice on her tense skin. After a few moments of just sitting in her large four poster, Kodachi decided to try to read herself to sleep. Opening a copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' she had stolen from her brother's room, she began to digest the scene where Romeo first laid eyes upon Juliet at Capulet's feast. Although she had heard and read the story many times before, Kodachi couldn't help but fall in love with it all over again every time she opened the book. Closing her eyes for a moment, her imagination began to run away with itself.

Kodachi pictured herself wearing a grand, red dress with a large black rose on the chest. Her hair was adorned with little black roses, and was put up in a most intricate manner. Ranma Darling, wearing dashing attire fit only for the finest princes in the world, locked eyes with Kodachi. Slowly, he walked over to the black haired girl, his intentions easily recognized. Striding up to Kodachi, Ranma Darling took her gloved hands in his, and they twirled around in a dance, their movements in perfect timing with the music. The pigtailed prince smiled lovingly down on Kodachi, who in turn rested her head on her beloved's broad chest, memorizing the feel and contour of the hard muscle beneath his princely apparel. As the orchestra music softened into a love ballad, Ranma cupped Kodachi's chin with his hand, and his intense blue eyes met with her dark brown ones. They stood there for an eternity until finally Ranma's head gently lowered. Their lips were insanely close to one another's; Kodachi could practically taste her darling Ranma on her wanton tongue. . .

Kodachi suddenly snapped out of her reverie. Although she was a gymnast, her training had considerably sharpened her senses; and right now, The Black Rose could sense something was not right. Looking about her room, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary; her school books were neatly stacked on her large, ginger brown desk, the window was closed, the curtains were drawn, and everything seemed to be in order. Taking another nervous glance at her surroundings, Kodachi couldn't see anything wrong. Reluctantly, the gymnast returned to the book she was reading and laid back on her large pillows, trying to get comfortable.

A few minutes past, when Kodachi heard a creaking sound. Bolting upright and throwing the Shakespearean play aside, Kodachi knew that someone other than herself was in her room.

"Sasuke?" she whispered into the darkened area of her room, hoping against hope that indeed it was only her ninja manservant. Although a lecture would be in order for him if she did find him sneaking about her room late at night, it would be the least of her worries. The logical side of her brain told her that she was simply being paranoid, that she'd had a rough day, and she was overtired. Kodachi desperately wanted to believe this left-brain sort of thinking, however the gut-wrenching feeling she had just wouldn't go away. Kodachi had always listened to her instincts, and usually she was right. In this particular case, instinct governed. 

Her instinct suddenly told her to get out of her bed. NOW. 

Rolling out of her bed and doing a gymnastic tumble to the floor, Kodachi heard a horrible ripping sound emanating from where she had nearly been asleep but seconds ago. Jerking her head upwards from her stance low on the ground, Kodachi could see a shadowed figure crouched atop of her mattress, their features mostly shadowed in the dark. A pair of blood red eyes glowed unnaturally in the blackness, gouging into her soul; its gaze sent shivers up Kodachi's spine. As quick as the figure had appeared on the bed, it dissipated from Kodachi's view, which scared The Black Rose greatly. Standing tall and whirling her head and body around trying to find the intruder, Kodachi couldn't see any sign of the encroacher who had somehow managed to get into her room without being noticed. Kodachi decided that the darkness wasn't helping her cause any; turning on her heel and sprinting as fast as she could towards the light switch, the teenaged girl could feel the wind stir behind her. The hairs on the back of her head stood on end, along with the minute hairs on her arms. Before she could reach either the door or the light switch, the wind rustled in front of her, and in an instant Kodachi was sent flying into the opposite wall. Falling with a sickening crack, the girl blearily opened her eyes to see those same damned red eyes staring at her, burning intensely. Rays of moonlight filtered into a pool in front of where Kodachi was slumped, providing a small bit of light for the gymnast.

The attacker stepped forward, the moon rays illuminating the person's features, which had once been a mystery to Kodachi. The intruder was a well-built, well-toned woman with black hair cut short at her chin. Her skin was ghostly pale, and her blood red eyes narrowed, looking at Kodachi. Her ebony ninja suit clung to her shapely body, a deadly looking katana hanging at her side. The ninja woman advanced dangerously on Kodachi, who was frozen in fear.

The tall attacking ninja stood directly above the frightened Kodachi, looking down at the teenaged girl and smiling cruelly. Lifting her arm horizontally in front of her face, Kodachi could do nothing except watch in terror at the ungodly scene that was about to take place. The ninja's arm suddenly began to bleed horribly, blood spurting out of her arm and onto Kodachi's face. To Kodachi's disgust, the skin on her forearm began to part with sickly slurping sounds, emerging from the bloody flesh a large metallic sickle that glinted in the moonlight. Rivulets of blood trickled down the woman's arm and splattered onto the floor and Kodachi's once pristine white nightgown. Kodachi screamed soundlessly.

The woman brought the sickle down on the terrified and helpless Kodachi; the only witness to the brutal attack was the lonely moonlight, casting its shadow on the growing pool of blood.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


"Emotions?" Kuno asked Noryoku from his sitting position in the grassy meadow. The moon was high and full, illuminating the field in a beautiful sea of silver light. Noryoku nodded solemnly.

"My power is activated by emotion. As is yours," Noyroku added, looking back at the teenaged boy. Tatewaki looked a bit confused.

"You mean that I, Tatewaki Kuno, possess that power as well?" The brunette woman nodded in response, taking a cross-legged sitting position opposite of Kuno. She studied his face for a moment, scrutinizing his features in the moonlight.

"It will be made apparent to you in time, Tatewaki. The signs of manifestation have already occurred; your strange dreams, your heightened sense of mawkishness, and your most interesting meditation," Noryoku stated, feeling the dried blood on Kuno's yukata. Tatewaki cringed at her mentioning of that, and Noryoku obviously noticed this. "I take it the meditation was a none too pleasant experience?"

"No, that is an immense understatement Noryoku Damasu," Kuno said bitterly, hugging himself despite the fact is was a fairly warm night, "it was an intensely real nightmare."

"Ah, purging the inner demons are we, Tatewaki?" the girl remarked with interest, one eyebrow raised, "do not worry. This is your power clawing its way to the conscious surface. It has remained dormant for seventeen years; believe me, this experience will strengthen you and ready you for your great responsibility." Kuno didn't seem to thrilled to be the bearer of such a 'great responsibility'. He sighed and looked down at a blue wild flower growing in front of his crossed legs. Fiddling with it for a moment, he was at the least thankful that he had a basic idea of what was going on and wasn't totally in the dark.

"When will my power manifest?" Tatewaki asked, his voice low and nearly expressionless as he kept his gaze locked on the beautiful flower in front of him. Noryoku exhaled loudly.

"That is the hard part. I don't know," the brunette informed Tatewaki, resting her head on her hands, "but it will most likely come about in a heightened period of emotion. There may also be some side effects." Noryoku's last comment made Tatewaki worry.

"What sort of side effects?" Kuno implored, hoping that it wouldn't be anything extremely serious like growing an extra limb or a mental disease. Although Noryoku looked to be normal physically, from the short time knowing her Kuno had concluded she wasn't the sanest of all minds.

"Well, I certainly didn't choose to dye my hair this colour," Noryoku snorted, playing with one of her blonde streaks, "I guess the shock of the intense power did this to my hair. Kind of weird; but that's the only thing other than the actual power revealing itself that's happened because of it." Sighing in relief, Kuno closed his eyes. No matter that he knew what was going on, the meditation dream was still fresh in his mind and no less disturbing.

The two young people sat in the field in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the serenity nature had to offer them. They had more in common than had first appeared; they shared the same burden of power, the same sort of fate awaited them. Although Noryoku was more experienced with it, Tatewaki Kuno would learn in time what the wonders of his new power could achieve - and what the eventual consequences would be as well.

After a while, Kuno finally arose from his sitting position, gazing at the moon. Noryoku looked up at him, but did nothing else. Kuno could swear he saw something odd flash across her eyes; was that pity? Pushing the thought aside for a while, Kuno began heading out of the clearing and to his mansion.

"It's late, I must be going," he said over his shoulder to the woman still sitting contentedly in the meadow. His only reply was the wind whistling in the trees and the leaves dancing on the wind in front of his face. Turning around once more to thank Noryoku for her help, Tatewaki found that the meadow was completely devoid of human life except for himself.

'She has many secrets, that Noryoku Damasu. I shall learn them all in time' Kuno thought, trudging through the foliage and carefully stepping over the remains of the brick wall, heading on the path back to his house for some well deserved sleep.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


The paper door slid open almost soundlessly, Kuno thanking Kami that, unlike traditional Western style doors, paper sliding doors didn't creak. He tip-toed through the house, hoping not to wake the slumbering residents up; although Sasuke probably wouldn't think much of it, his sister was most likely still angry at him, and, well, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Though Kodachi wasn't really a 'woman' in the sense of the word (would real women poison their families with their cooking on purpose?), she could still beat him soundly with her gymnastics ribbon and spiked clubs; and his ribs still hurt. A passing glance at an old clock hung on the wall informed Kuno that the time was 2:30 a.m.; explaining why the kendoist felt so fatigued. Quietly he crept up the wooden stairs which, unlucky for him, did creak under his weight. Hoping against hope that his sister was sound asleep, he wove his way through the many corridors of the Kuno mansion, finally finding the hallway where his and his sister's bedrooms were located. Passing by a bathroom, Kuno felt it would be a good idea to at least brush his teeth before going to sleep. Entering inside the luxurious washroom, Tatewaki found his blue toothbrush and a bottle of toothpaste under the sink. 

A couple minutes and a mouth-wash later, Tatewaki was back in the hallway, his minty fresh mouth feeling rather pleasant. He noticed the door to his sister's bedroom was slightly ajar; the tiny stream of moonlight irradiating the wooded hallway. Tatewaki decided to make sure that his sister was sleeping, just in case she was wandering around the house and found him. Poking his head through the doorway, he found he couldn't see a thing; so he took a step inside, attempting to hear any snoring or breathing on his sister's part. Although he didn't hear anything, he felt his foot stepping in a sticky liquid. Confused, Kuno's hand fumbled around the wall until he found the light switch.

For a moment, he wish he had never turned on the light.

Kodachi's normally orderly and kempt room was in shambles; her desk was cracked in places, and papers and books were scattered all over the place. The far wall was cracked horribly and the window was shattered, glinting pieces of glass reflecting the moon rays into Tatewaki's eyes. Kodachi's four poster bed was ripped inside out; bedding and feathers were everywhere, the white mattress. . .

It was caked in blood. Kuno ran inside his sister's bedroom, his hands trembling, his face white. There was a rather large puddle of blood by the window, and splatters of it all over the room. A shredded copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' was thrown unceremoniously by the closet; it too also covered in blood. Kuno, not knowing what else to do, hollered his sister's name at the top of the lungs. Searching frantically around the room for any signs of his sister and hoping to Kami that she was okay, he managed to find no traces of her. He stumbled over to a small end table where there was a folded up white paper. Picking it up with his already bloodstained hands, Tatewaki unfolded the note, wanting to see what was inside.

The note was written in blood. For the second time that night, Tatewaki could feel the vomit rise in his throat, threatening to spill onto the already grotesque scene that was once his sister's bedroom. The trembling in his hands increased as he read the letters on the paper; Kuno sinking to his knees in complete exhaustion, fear, and hollowness. The words on the small piece of paper ran through Kuno's mind countless times, the simple and infuriating sentence grabbing at his mind. He looked at it in contempt once more before a startled Sasuke ran into the room, beholding the horrors of Kodachi's bedroom for himself for the first time.

"M-master Kuno," Sasuke managed to gasp after a few moments, "w-what happened?" Tatewaki, his eyes unfocused and bleary, simply tossed the crumpled note to his ninja manservant, who straightened it out to read it for himself. The sentence made no sense to him; by the looks of it, Sasuke concluded, it didn't make much sense to Master Kuno either. 

Tatewaki, standing up from the blood soaked floors of the remains of sister's bedroom, muttered the sentence from the paper which had been ingrained in his memory forever. 

"Pandora's box has been opened."

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Hey yeah, that was quite odd. O_o Well, I told ya something was gonna happen in this chapter, and I DID make it longer! ^^ Aren't ya proud of me? ^^;; Anyhoo, R/R s'il vous plait! =)

  
  



	6. Fears

  
  


Disclaimer: Me? Own Ranma ½? Well of COURSE I do, silly! ^_^ Hey look, the Maple Leafs just won the Stanley Cup! In other words, if you did not understand my implied meaning in the bashing of the Leafs (Leaf fans please don't hurt me! My brother is already threatening to beat me over the head with his Leafs hockey stick), I do not own Ranma ½, which is quite a shame, because most of the guys in it (namely Kuno and Ryoga and Mousse) wouldn't be wearing much clothing a lot of the time.

  
  


Rating: I think we already know, don't we? ^_~

  
  


WARNING: this chapter contains slight yuri (f/f) content, but not a heck of a lot. Most of it's not really MEANT to be yuri, but really just a peek into one of the character's more psychotic traits. Yeah. . . so, uh, just so's ya know.

  
  


Author's Notes: Now things are finally starting to pick up - gomen nasai for the extremely slow beginnings. I have a horrible habit of doing that. ^^;; Anyhoot, once again I would like to thank both Naomi and Silver Phoenix for their marvelous ego-boosting and unscrupulous promotion of my fic. I suggest reading both Naomi Athena, Naomi, Silver Phoenix, and Silver Sunshine's fanfics. You will NOT be disappointed. 

  
  


Okay, this chapter's been tumbling and reshaping itself in my head for a while now. There'll be more interaction with the cast of Ranma ½, and I think this chapter isn't half bad all in all. In fact, I added a new section of it while contemplating why Coke is black. oO;; 

  
  


So, by the way, I do hope you enjoy Chapter 6 of. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  
  
  


The brilliant ball of fire emerged from the earth's crust; its birth illuminating the vast lands stretching before it. Like a parched man in the desert stumbling upon an oasis, the land greedily drank up the sun's rays, absorbing its warmth and radiance and lightening the newborn day in pink and yellow hues.

Yet one household remained as black as the deathly night; at least, on the inside it seemed to be. It was as if the dwelling purposely deflected the rays of the sun, bouncing them away to shed light on some other cheery and safe place where young children would soon be playing and where birds were singing their contented little hearts out, oblivious to the chaos and destruction within the broken homestead that was the Kuno Mansion. 

The brave specks of sunshine that did manage to permeate the darkness of the bedroom which had belonged to Kodachi Kuno were soon swallowed up by the puddles of drying blood on the floor, reflected by the broken glass strewn haphazardly around the room, or dissipated slowly as the rays traveled through the grim interior and out into the equally stark hallway. The air was stale; the stench of blood overwhelming, and steam wafting out of the nearby bathroom. The only sound that could be heard in the eerie silence of the bedroom hallway was the hiss of the shower, the steady shoots of water beating against the ivory bathtub's surface.

He sat there lethargically, his head resting against the cool, pearly wall of the shower, allowing the water to pelt his clothed body. His blue yukata was plastered to his skin, as was his hakama, his bare feet poking out of the ends. His legs were bent, resting on top of each other, fitting the bathtub perfectly. The boy's hardened grey eyes concentrated on the watery blood that was swirling around in circles around the drain, hypnotizing him with its bright red colour, penetrating his eyes and affixing itself well into his brain.

Tatewaki continued to watch the blood wash off his clothing, running in a river towards the drain, disappearing and never to be seen again. His stoic and solid expression betrayed no emotion; his thoughts and feelings stayed only as his own thoughts and feelings, keeping everything wrapped up tight within himself. 

Not that it would have mattered. 

Rivulets of water creased down his rigid features, dripping off his chin to meet with hundreds upon hundreds of other tiny water droplets, forming a puddle, then a river, flowing mindlessly down the drain with the blood, which was still coursing in surprisingly large quantities. Staring at the red life forces of his sister, his love, his enemy, and himself forced his mind to issues he had long since buried and mostly forgotten; issues he wished he had managed to keep entombed and ultimately dead, however the dark side of his mind, which was starting to become more and more apparent with each passing minute, would not allow that. His mind drifted back to the scene he had stumbled upon last night.

Kodachi's bedroom. Destroyed. Bloodied. Askew. It was so much like. . . like. . . so long ago. He was only a child; oh gods he didn't want to remember it, but his mind was forcing him back to the memories. The horrible memories. . .

There was a soft knocking sound on the bathroom door. Kuno's head snapped up, the dream-like - no, nightmare-like - state the boy was about to enter had vanished, and the kendoist was swept back into reality like the blood and water was helplessly swept into the bathtub drain. 

"Master Kuno?" was the soft, questioning voice coming through the other side of the door. Tatewaki recognized the voice immediately as belonging to the Kuno mansion's resident butler, Sasuke. 

Sasuke was obviously just as distraught as Kuno; the two siblings had been almost like the children he never had. They were the closest family Sasuke had ever had, and losing an important part of it must have come as a great shock and horribly depressing matter. However, Sasuke being Sasuke, the ninja manservant tried not to let it show too much; he still had one of his surrogate children to be strong for. It comforted Kuno to some degree, though it was too minuscule to really feel on the outside; but deep down, Kuno was thankful for Sasuke's actions. It was a hell of a lot more than his real father ever tried to do for his two kids. 

Wiping the damp, heavy bangs from his eyes and effectively slicking his hair back in a disheveled and odd manner, Tatewaki stood from the shower on shaky legs, almost slipping as he went to turn off the faucet. After the water had stopped and Kuno found a dry and folded towel stacked neatly near the bathtub, Kuno answered Sasuke.

"Yes Sasuke?" Kuno asked, his voice betraying how mentally and emotionally exhausted the boy truly was. He shuffled about the bathroom, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes and observing his pathetic face in the mirror. He noticed there was still blood on his yukata.

Kuno suddenly had the urge to punch the mirror. Hard. Acting on his abrupt desire, Tatewaki yelled and struck the glass full-force, his balled fist shattering the mirror into pieces, each of them screaming out as they clattered and clanged on the ivory veneer of the sink and counter, the shining pieces looking up at Kuno. His reflection now officially destroyed, Kuno rose his hand to eye-level, which was still balled in a fist. Two particularly sharp pieces stuck out on his knuckles, deep red blood trickling down his hand, to be quickly absorbed by the sleeve of his damp yukata sleeve, the water once again mingling with the crimson blood.

To his surprise and horror, he didn't feel a thing. It was as if his body was numb, his skin and nerves losing all feeling whatsoever; testing this, he plucked the first piece of glass out of his fist quickly, marveling at how the thick red blood coated and was reflected in the shard of a once beautiful mirror. He tossed it aside, throwing it into a sea of glass pieces of all different shapes and sizes. It was a rather minor cut, actually. If it was so minor, why did he find he had tears dripping out of his eyes?

The second piece of glass was a different story. Long, sharp, and deep, pain actually began to register in Tatewaki's mind as he tugged at the mirror shard, trying to slide it out of his hand. With a disgusting slurping sound, the glass finally revoked its claim in Kuno's fist, its elongated and deadly sharp point smothered in red blood. Without thought, the teenager crushed the shard of glass in his other hand, closing his powerful fingers around the fragment. Opening them revealed a mound of sparkling dust and tiny, crunching pieces of glass; he faced his palm to the pile of mirror shards and dumped them unceremoniously onto the substantially fractured mirror.

"Master Kuno??" Sasuke's voice rang out again, this time with much more concern and worry evident in his tone. An empty smile crawled onto Kuno's face. Walking towards the bathroom door, Tatewaki turned the knob and opened it slowly, so as not to startle Sasuke. It opened towards Kuno, allowing the small ninja manservant to see his master in full view.

Shocked at how horrible his Master Kuno looked, Sasuke tried to search his minds for the words to string together a basic sentence, but found none befitting the mansion's current mood. With a deep sigh, Tatewaki rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of the bathroom and towards his own room to find a change of clothing to replace his dripping wet samurai garb, and to fix his hair. It would not do to look so. . . dysfunctional.

"Where are you going, Master Kuno?" Sasuke questioned, watching the retreating back of the young master. With Kuno waving his hand and mumbling, Sasuke drew from his master's quiet and very simple reply that the boy was getting ready for school.

"Are. . . are you sure you're up for school today, Master Kuno?" The ninja watched as Tatewaki slowly turned his gaze to the him, Sasuke looking at him with concerned eyes. Kuno's face was frighteningly devoid of life, and his eyes were like looking into an unpleasant and never-ending abyss.

"What do you mean, Sasuke?" he asked, his voice quiet with an extremely depressed undertone, "nothing's wrong."

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  


He lithely jumped off the chain link fence as he and his unwillingly named fiancee entered through the gates of Furinkan High. For once, neither of them were stopped by an onslaught of either manic principals, Amazonian delivery girls, bandana clad lost boys, spatula wielding okonomiyaki chefs, or poetry reciting kendoists. From what Ranma could see, said aggressors were nowhere to be found; hopefully, once he inevitably confronted one of the other fiancees or rivals, they would be in good moods. Although fighting was usually quite a fun pastime for Ranma Saotome, he had had a particularly rough start to the day.

Who would have thought Akane wanted to prepare breakfast too? Ranma had risen late that fateful morning and, in his haste, forgot to look at what was on his plate. Although the ungodly stench should have given the chief du jour away, the pigtailed martial artist's stomach was complaining so much he was shoveling the toxicities down his throat at Amaguriken-like speed. His insides were paying the high price for his lateness and carelessness dealing with food cooked within the Tendo prefecture; the welt from Akane's mallet blow to his skull was of no help either.

In any case, the aquasexual boy simply did not want to deal with any other attackers/romantic interests/insane people claiming to be part of the Anything Goes School of Fingernail Painting or Martial Arts Sleeping or some such ludicrous style of fighting. He glanced over at Akane and noticed her fingernails were painted a shade of blue to match her hair colour. In his tired state, he briefly wondered if Akane was the secret leader of the Anything Goes School of Fingernail Painting; although the hack job on her fingernails wasn't really anything to be proud of. Streaks of blue were all over the skin on her fingers, and what managed to remain on the nail was promptly chipping off and leaving big, ugly spots of fleshy-white. His critique on her fingernails was promptly interrupted by an airborne briefcase to his head.

"Stop looking at me, pervert!" Akane shouted at Ranma, snatching up her book case once again and stomping off to some unknown part of the school grounds. Sighing and rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead which began to rival his previous cranial injury in size and pain, Ranma Saotome wandered about the field. He began to realize just how boring getting to school on time without answering the challenge of an opponent and duking it out for an amazed audience was. Ranma looked up at the large clock on the frontal wall of Furinkan High; he had fifteen whole minutes until the bell rang. Pondering how it was possible to get up late and still be insanely early for school, Ranma leaned against the cool cement wall of Furinkan, allowing himself a rare moment to contemplate his place in the vast universe. Autumn was drawing to a close, and the wind was progressively becoming chillier by the day; however Ranma didn't mind, seeing that he wasn't really bugged by the wintry weather.

Ranma suddenly felt the sensation of ice cold water being dumped on his head from up above. In the window, two teachers were debating whether they should have looked below them before dumping out the excess water from the fish tank in the science lab; however the disagreement was soon settled by a promised cup of coffee and cigarette in the teacher's lounge. While the two educators went off, a now female - and soaking wet - Ranma Saotome silently fumed. Since his introspective musings on his extremely mixed up lifestyle was now officially cut short by the fish tank's icy water (the insufferable temperature probably killed the fish, Ranma concluded), the now red-headed girl decided to wander through the halls of Furinkan to find some hot water. The janitor would most likely have some on hand; since Ranma's arrival at the school, the custodian usually had a kettle on the fire, just in case. Ranma's was one of those cases at the moment.

His sopping wet feet squished and echoed in the empty hallways of the high school, leaving a trail of watery footprints behind. Hoping that no one would slip on the water, place the blame on him (which they always somehow did) and sue or demand a martial arts battle royale depending on who they were, Ranma turned the corner in the hallway, scanning the passage for any signs of the school caretaker. So far he found none; the janitor's closet was empty, and he hadn't seen any signs of the old man wandering around the halls. 

Ranma sighed in disdain at his predicament and was about to venture back outside when, as if just an afterthought, the most beautiful music wafted down the hallway, carrying lightly on the air to rest in Ranma's acute ears. His curiosity temporarily overriding his desire to find some hot water, his feet seemed to work on their own as he closed his eyes and listened to the music, trusting in his sharpened instincts to direct him to the music's source. The instrument sound like a violin; it was expertly played, never missing a beat. The song itself was beautiful in its melancholic appeal; the notes were sorrowful yet lovely, as if the song were an ocean crashing deep within your soul, burying your conscious thought and allowing the dreaming that reserved itself for sleep to emerge to the surface. For some reason, the song really spoke to Ranma; in turn, Ranma's searching for the violinist was yielding more fruit than his search for the custodian. The music was becoming louder and louder, until finally the red-headed girl stopped in front of a door that was slightly ajar. Gently pushing it open, Ranma was more than surprised at who she found to be creating the harmonious and sad melody.

There stood none other than Tatewaki Kuno, dressed for once in the school's white shirt and blue pants uniform, with his back to Ranma. The violin was sitting comfortably under his chin, the bow gliding across the strings on the wooden instrument as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The pigtailed martial artist's mind partly refused to connect the hauntingly beautiful violin music to the infuriatingly thick headed kendoist playing it, yet he couldn't deny what he was seeing. The sun's rays danced along the polished redwood of the instrument, glinting off and reflecting the boy performing the euphony of notes, accenting his deep brown hair and silhouetting his muscular form in the large window he faced. Ranma watched in amazement as Kuno's fingers expertly wove around and pressed down on all the different strings with incredible speed and accuracy; Ranma went as far to compare it to a martial arts battle between the fingers and the strings. The fingers pressed, the strings pulled, and different results were awarded with different techniques. It was an incredibly breathtaking sight.

With a long draw of the bow on a deep, rich note, the violin's music ceased, filling the room with a resounding silence. Ranma-chan was still entranced with the rather strange scene, even as Kuno carefully set down the instrument and the bow on a nearby desk and walked over to the window, hopping up onto the ledge. He looked out through the glass pane, observing the high school students of Furinkan High chatting away, playing rugby or some other tackle sport, or attempting to get closer to that special someone who, frankly, just didn't concern themselves with the fact that their suitor-to-be existed. They seemed so careless. . .

"Kuno?" Ranma-chan asked, albeit hesitantly, successfully cutting off Kuno's train of thought. Since his introspective was temporarily derailed, Kuno figured he might as well acknowledge the presence that stood across from him; he was a bit curious as to who it was, the distant voice seemed familiar. The kendoist's head turned around to meet the face of an all too familiar person standing the hallway, her hands resting on the doorframe of the classroom.

"Pigtailed Girl!" Kuno exclaimed, half in surprise, half in ingrained reaction. Ranma prepared himself for Kuno to rush over and squeeze the living daylights out of her as per usual, but instead he simply gave her a look that was. . . odd. He was smiling his idiotic and hopelessly infatuated smile one moment, and the next; his eyes flickered, his smile slowly faded, and his face was set into an expression of staidness. It wasn't an angry scowl, it wasn't a lustful grin, and it certainly wasn't an arrogant display either. His face looked worse for wear too; there were dark bags encircling his eyes, and the gash on his cheek stood out nastily against his now pale skin. It unsettled Ranma more than he would've liked. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Tatewaki put his legs up onto the ledge of the window, resting his arms on one raised knee, his other outstretched leg filling out the space of the window's rim completely. After a couple minutes, he drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them, continuing to stare out the window to the grassy fields of Furinkan High.

"They look so happy," Ranma heard Kuno murmur, a statement that had obviously meant to be in the mental state only but had escaped the kendoist's lips. Ranma tentatively took a couple steps forward.

"You okay, Kuno?" he asked, his voice at a pitch higher than he would have liked. From what Ranma could perceive, the boy on the window ledge mumbled a reply asserting the pigtailed martial artist that he was indeed fine. Of course, Ranma being Ranma, tact was simply never a part of any of his conversations involving sensitive matters. Nimbly, the boy turned girl joined Kuno on the window sill, his legs casually hanging of the side. His eyes studied the kendoist's surprisingly reserved form, how the window reflected his face and the deep red gash that ran across his cheek, how his eyes looked passive and mournful. It was strange to Ranma; shouldn't he have been up and proclaiming that he was going to smite the evil sorcerer Saotome and claim The Pigtailed Girl and Akane Tendo as his true loves, brandishing his wooden sword as always? Something was terribly amiss.

Ranma mentally berated himself. 

'Why am I here anyway? I mean, it's Kuno!' he thought, tearing his gaze away from the other boy and, now looking out the window as well, wracking his brain for the exact reason why Ranma was there in the first place. Ranma and Kuno weren't exactly what you would call best friends - hell, simply friends was a stretch at best - and their relationship was two-sided to the extreme. One moment, Kuno;s attacking the pigtailed boy, blazoning how he would, how did Kuno put it, 'be vanquished under mine blade of justice and sent to meet Hades in the underworld', and a cup of cold water later, the boy's all over his busty, cursed form and proclaiming how they were meant to be together and that she was his one true love. Confusing? Not once it started to become a nigh daily routine; pounding the information into his thick skull didn't seem to faze him one bit, and explaining it only served to perplex the kendoist even more. Truly he was a lost cause.

So why did Ranma stay on the window ledge with him? Ranma admitted that, like many of his rival friends, they had certainly been through strange occurrences together; including being marooned on an island, battling through the Seven Lucky Gods martial artists to rescue Akane from the Chinese kidnappers, martial arts figure skating competitions against a kleptomaniac bent on owning everything she deemed to be "cute"; the list went on and on. Of course, Ranma *did* leave Kuno and the others floating in the Sea of Japan during the Lucky Gods incident; they could've all been dead. . .

'But they aren't. I mean, there really wasn't anything I could do,' he thought, sighing and hopping off the window sill, deciding to leave Kuno with his thoughts. However, he expected the brown haired boy to leap up any minute and glomp him like there was no tomorrow like he always did, showing that, indeed, the whole "deep in thought" was just a front.

No such thing happened. Tatewaki remained on the ledge, stagnantly peering through the window pane with eyes that looked far too metaphysical and drained to belong to The Blue Thunder of Furinkan High. Where was the blissful vapidness? Where was the confusion? Where was the lust? Sighing, Ranma turned to leave the silent room.

"Kodachi. . ." the pigtailed boy-girl heard Tatewaki breath from behind him. Ranma turned his head to face the form of Kuno, still curled up in his fetal position, but with one hand palm-down on the glass, as if he could touch something that was quite distant. Ranma noticed the deep wounds on his knuckles; in fact, they were bleeding profusely, causing red droplets to find their way down the glass and drip onto Kuno's pant leg. Ranma was now absolutely determined to find out what was going on with the boy before him.

"Something wrong with your sister?" the pigtailed martial artist quietly implored, entranced by the idiosyncracy of the situation presented to him. Ranma saw Kuno visibly flinch at the mention of Kodachi from the pigtailed girl, his gaze dropping from the window to stare downwards at himself, withdrawing his bloody hand from the window and looking at it, a mixture of anger and pain washing over the kendoist's face.

"Kuno?" Ranma prodded gently. He didn't really like that expression on Kuno's feature; the term "upsetting" was an understatement. Tatewaki expelled a shaky breath, the sun which was previously glaring in his eyes now hidden behind a passing grey cloud. A fitting turn of events in the sky, Tatewaki thought dryly. 

"Kodachi," Tatewaki began, his voice soft and low, "she. . . I don't even know if she's alive or not; oh gods there was so much blood. . ." His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and the moisture that had been steadily gathering in his eyes began to spill out against Kuno's will, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. The tears mingled with the cut on his face, discharging a watery red liquid that traveled down his cheek and to his chin, where it dribbled down his neck and onto his white shirt, staining it with an off-crimson tinge. 

"I don't even know if she's alive. . .!" he sobbed quietly into his arms, his face now hidden from view. Kuno felt ashamed to be crying like a woman in front of his beloved Pigtailed Girl, but no matter how he tried, the tears simply would not cease. Even during his most painful kendo practices he had not cried like this; no broken bone or ugly wound compared to the pain of loneliness he was feeling at the present moment. Surely the Pigtailed Girl would think him weak after viewing him in his pathetic state; he would be even more alone than he was right now, which in turn produced even more drops of salty water that fell on Kuno's already wet face and lips. 

At that moment, Ranma felt many emotions flow through him. From what he had gathered from Tatewaki's spoken words, something terrible had happened to Kodachi, something potentially capable of killing her. What it was, Ranma could only guess at the moment; however there was also the matter of the boy before him. 

His heart seemed to twist inside his chest, watching Kuno pouring his heart out through the tears dribbling down his cheeks. Ranma wasn't used to seeing Kuno so vulnerable, so deeply hurt; while tugging at his heart strings it was almost frightening at the same time. Something really was wrong; although Kuno was a dramatic person, Ranma could usually tell the difference between over-exaggerated acting and true hurt. Whatever was hurting Tatewaki was very deep; not knowing what else to do, Ranma approached Kuno slowly and deliberately, placing his female hand on the kendoist's trembling back, trying to comfort Kuno as much as he knew how. With the way Ranma was raised, we wasn't familiar with dealing with emotional matters.

Kuno's body was wracked with sobs, the boy doing his best to hide his tears. It wasn't helping him any. Ranma could feel the trembling skin beneath his hand and Kuno's shirt; it felt awful, knowing that somebody was hurting so badly.

"It's okay," Ranma murmured, not sure of what else to say, rubbing Kuno's back in an attempt to be partially comforting. The sound of Kuno crying imbued the empty classroom, each tear dripping painfully audible to both of the boys' ears. Ranma also noticed that a faint, dark blue aura was encompassing the kendoist; which was odd, since Ranma knew that auras where only supposed to show when in battle with someone, when the chi's flame was fanned by the adrenaline and power of a fight. Even under his school shirt, Ranma could feel his skin become progressively colder; the pigtailed martial artist also saw that every breath discharged by Kuno was visible, as if it was below freezing in the room. Blinking in complete surprise, Ranma withdrew his hand from Tatewaki's increasingly freezing back, looking in awe at the minute ice crystals forming themselves on his fingers. 

Kuno also noticed something when the tears began freezing mid-way on his cheeks. His eyes wide in horror, Kuno realized what was happening - his power was starting to manifest.

'I can't let it, I don't know how to control it!' the boy thought frantically, doing his best to wipe away the tears before they solidified on his face. Gritting his teeth in determination, Tatewaki squeezed his eyes closed and began to concentrate on something other than the pain and loneliness he was feeling; to keep his mind off what happened to Kodachi. It was torturous, trying to find a happy moment in the midst of the chaos and suffering that wrought his mind, to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Ranma backed away from Tatewaki, his eyes fixated on the riveting glow that surrounded the boy before him. The pigtailed martial artist had long since recognized the incandescence that encompassed Kuno as not being chi; Ranma had experience with all sorts of battle auras and chi, but whatever Kuno was creating was definitely not of chi origin. Although he was a good couple feet back, Ranma could still feel the bitter cold that enveloped the kendoist bite at his skin, leaving ice crystallites to mark where the aura had scraped him.

Tatewaki, meanwhile, was writhing on the ledge, almost as if in pain. Pushing his thoughts from his mind and trying to separate his emotion from his soul was almost impossible for the poor boy; as if there was a force inside his mind pushing him back. The all consuming desire to just allow his sadness to sweep his mind and fill his body was overwhelming; it would just be easier to let his power take him in whatever direction it wished. Kuno knew, though, that if he did, surely the Pigtailed Girl would be injured; the last thing he wanted was to hurt anybody, especially not his love. This single thought fueled his internal struggle. 

Suddenly, the glow surrounding Kuno flared violently in every direction, temporarily blinding Ranma. Shielding his eyes as best as possible while still looking at Tatewaki through a squinted stare, Ranma witnessed the aura flash a mix of white and blue for a split second before disappearing entirely, stunning the pigtailed martial artist for a moment. Faint traces of blue specks were still visible, floating off the shivering kendoist and disappearing into the rays of the sun shining just beyond the reach of the window. His breath still visible and the freezing feeling crawling up his spine and throughout his skin, Kuno's body trembled horribly and helplessly, hugging himself as tightly as possible for any extra warmth. The black dots that started appearing before Tatewaki's eyes didn't help either; he figured the overwhelming black was also the reason his eyelids suddenly felt so heavy. His hands began to loosen around his legs despite his will to keep them there so he wouldn't feel so cold, and his weight began to sink to his right side, which slowly started to pull him off the window's edge.

Ranma-chan, blinking the remainders of the flash of light out of his eyes, saw what was happening. He instinctively began to react to Kuno's impending fall, but was stopped when they made eye contact. Kuno's eyes looked tired beyond belief; and also empty. An emotion quickly flashed through Tatewaki's grey eyes; something that looked almost like a pleading sort of expression. It passed within a second, and the trance Ranma was put in was cut short with the dull thud of Kuno's body hitting the ground. The boy turned girl ran over to the fallen young man, kneeling down and looking for signs of life; putting two fingers under his neck, there was a strong pulse indeed, Ranma figured that he was just in a very deep unconscious state. Sighing halfway in relief and halfway in confusion, Ranma managed to heft the boy up into his arms, thinking all the while how much easier it would be to carry Tatewaki if he had a cup of warm water with him. Putting Kuno in a position that was comfortable for Ranma and hopefully comfortable for the other boy, the pigtailed girl made his way out of the room, down the hallway, and in the general direction of the nurse's office.

Inside the empty classroom, the forgotten violin and bow sat. Although dwindling in glow and physicality, blue sparkles danced along the redwood, being drawn to a certain place on the back of the wooden instrument, cementing themselves into a certain area. The blue intangible sparks wove around a carved section on the back of the violin, swirling and illuminating the letters 'T.K.' engraved lovingly in beautiful, almost calligraphic characters. It flashed wonderfully before the indigo dissipated from existence altogether, leaving the inscribed figures as normal as they were before.

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Voices surrounded her; strange voices, ones she did not recognize. In her semi-conscious state, Kodachi was fairly sure that there were two females and a male, judging from their voice tones. A sharp pain in her side forced her into full consciousness, aware of a sickly, sticky liquid-like sensation surrounding her face and body. Her bleary eyes registered the fluid as being blood, which was fast drying to her once completely white silken nightgown, the small black roses attached to the base of the straps encircling her shoulders slick with blood as well. The red life force near her eye was annoying her; attempting to move her hand to wipe it away, Kodachi found she was bound quite tightly to a very cold feeling table; almost like an operating table. Fear slowly made its way through the fog in Kodachi's mind and permeated her essence, the combined cold of the table, thin clothing, and absolute fright of what was to become of her making Kodachi's entire body shiver. Blinking her eyes, Kodachi attempted to focus on the people around her, who were currently engaged in a conversation, however the extremely bright light shining down directly into her eyes forbade Kodachi's view to include that of her presumed captors' faces. The voices around her continued talking.

"We sent you to kidnap her, not mortally wound her," one voice said, a clearly British accent worming its way through her beautiful yet deadly voice.

"And I have done exactly that. The girl is not dead," the other woman's voice replied, this one's edge as deadly as a sharpened katana blade. Kodachi presumed the woman with the cold, hard tone was also the owner of the blood red eyes she had seen in her bedroom. Kodachi was deathly afraid of that woman.

"Was it wise sending this psychopath to complete the job that required finesse and skill?" the male voice asked, obviously German. A cool, calm, and collected tone he had, and obviously resented the woman with the red eyes and arm sickles. 

"This 'psychopath' completed the task as required. I would kill you where you stand, however that is impossible, is it not?" the ninja woman who captured Kodachi stated, disdain and just a hint of snideness tainting her articulation. There was a 'hmpf' from the German man.

"Children, stop bickering. I believe our guest is awake," the British woman stated, effectively halting the low-key yet undoubtedly perilous verbal fight that was about to ensue between the ninja and the German man. All three of them turned their attention to the girl strapped to the table. Kodachi attempted to move out of their gaze, though knowing it to be impossible. The movement cause a wave of pain to course through Kodachi's body, the girl emitting a loud and very audible gasp of pain. 

"I wouldn't try to move if I were you. If you puncture your lung and die, you're no use to us," the British woman stated coldly, looking down at Kodachi. Turning the intensity of the light down on Kodachi's eyes, the Black Rose could now see who she was dealing with.

The first woman was the British one who was speaking to her. She wore an outfit consisting of only leather, and there wasn't much at that. Her glorious mane of orange hair fell behind her, resting lightly on her back; her aquamarine eyes bore holes into Kodachi's, as if daring the Black Rose to oppose her so she could cut her down to size. Judging by the deadly gleam in her eye, Kodachi surmised that the term 'cut down to size' could mean both physically, emotionally, or most likely both.

The second female she recognized immediately; Kodachi doubted she would ever forget that face as long as she lived. Her crimson eyes were running up and down the bound girl's body, making her extremely uncomfortable. She wore the same outfit she remembered the ninja captor in; the sight of the blood caked all over it made Kodachi want to throw up - she knew for a fact that it wasn't the woman's own blood, but her own.

The man was an interesting sight indeed. He had a mop of brown hair, and wore a slick, black trench coat, covering much of his body. He also wore a jet black shirt underneath the coat, and Kodachi assumed the rest of the gaijin's ensemble was black as well. His brooding face unsettled her; however his features were by no means unattractive. Actually, he looked to be truly handsome, with a defined and chiseled face that was at the same time dark and agonized. His gaze transfixed Kodachi's for a moment.

"Pardon the restraints. We had to make sure you didn't escape, you see," the orange haired woman continued explaining nonchalantly, "for we did go through all that trouble capturing you." The ninja woman cleared her throat.

"Right, Kurai went through all that trouble of capturing you." Looking between the three strangers around her, Kodachi's pretty features soon settled into an all-too-familiar stance of anger and sly resentment.

"Well thank you for going through all that trouble for me," the black haired girl spit out sarcastically, trying to lift her head from the table for an intimidation factor which was obviously not available to her, "but I would rather you hadn't. I demand you return me home now!" Being rich had automatically instilled a sense of authority over others in Kodachi since she was a young girl; money was good for things other than those of the materialistic kind. Kodachi had never really been the quiet, shy, spineless type either, who backed down from a confrontation; actually, she usually disposed of her rivals beforehand by poisoning them in their sleep the day before. Although the usual job of infecting her enemies was not an option in this case, it didn't mean she was going to back down - tied to a cold, sterile metal table with half her body broken or not.

"I'm sorry, but we can't do that Fraulein," the trench coated man told her in his thick accent, resting his arms on the edge of the table, his face now closer to Kodachi's. The ninja woman, Kurai, was silent and watching the man in a begrudged sort of way, not moving an inch. The British woman dressed in leather did much the same thing as the German man.

"That would defeat the purpose of your stay here in the Underground, now wouldn't it?" she purred, her tone low and deadly; Kodachi could feel her breath on her neck, which sent shivers up and down her battered body. The British woman stared Kodachi down, her turquoise eyes embedding themselves into the black haired teenager's mind; this lasted for a few seconds, after which the orange haired female raised her right hand and snapped. Kurai, after remaining stationary for almost the entire time, moved briskly and gripped the edge of the steel table, moving it forwards and past the two other members of the mysterious 'Underground', Kodachi's eyes gazing at the woman with the leather and orange tresses until she was out of sight.

Kurai the ninja woman's walking form was nearly all Kodachi could see the entire time she led the rhythmic gymnast down a very dark, very austere, and very cold hallway, dimly lit by low-powered lights suspended from the ceilings. It was all chillingly sanitary, like some sort of demented hospital carved straight from a hunk of stainless steel. Amazed that the only noise that she could hear was the squeak of the wheels fastened tightly to the legs of the table, Kodachi attempted to distract her gaze from Kurai's piercing red eyes, but found it nigh impossible. The woman was silent and stealthy, like when she had shanghaied the teenager from her bedroom late at night. Eerily efficient, collected, with a psychotic calm. Kodachi wished desperately to be anywhere but with the black haired ninja. Although she kept a very haughty and confident front, Kodachi was scared to death on the inside; the only thought that kept her from outright screaming her lungs out was the fact she knew that her darling Ranma would be coming to her rescue any minute now. She just knew it. . .

Dwelling and drowning in thoughts of the pigtailed martial artist, Kodachi barely noticed when she and Kurai entered a cold and decidedly empty box of a room, consisting of an under-padded floor and overly smooth, metallic walls that smelled of antiseptic and the pure, unadulterated insanity of captors past. Shivering despite herself, the Black Rose spotted blotches of dried blood that had been left caked on, obviously too ingrained in the metal to be removed; perhaps they were simply kept there as reminders to new prisoners of what laid ahead for them, Kodachi could only guess at the moment. The movement of the table the girl was strapped to stopped in the middle of the room, a single lamp hung directly above on the ceiling bathing Kodachi in a macabre sort of light. Kodachi could feel the straps holding her down on the table being loosened; Kurai's delicate hands were making extremely quick work of them.

"Hold still," the ninja woman demanded after removing the last bond. Kurai ripped the right side of Kodachi's once white nightgown, making a slit that reached up halfway between her knee and thigh. Her ivory white hands felt chilly on Kodachi's now exposed leg, which was bent at all the wrong angles. 

"This will hurt," Kurai whispered. Kodachi realized with a start what the other woman was planning to do, but failed to respond quickly enough to prepare herself. With a sickeningly audible crack that ricocheted off the steel walls and through the room, Kurai's strong hands brutally set the broken bone back in its original place, which produced a cry of pain from Kodachi. Quickly, Kurai did the same for Kodachi's other leg, also tearing another slit on the other side of her silken nightgown, setting the bone with another loud snap. The Black Rose bit down on her lip so hard it began to bleed, the taste of her own life force dripping onto her tongue and unintentionally sliding down her throat. Such was the same sort of happening for Kodachi's left arm and right wrist.

"Get up," the ninja woman ordered after performing her bone-setting on the rhythmic gymnast. Kodachi tested her legs and arms; to her surprise, they could move almost perfectly, although there was still a fair amount of pain accompanying the movement of the joints. Shakily standing on her two legs, Kodachi found that she was incredibly weak and fell immediately into a heap on the hard floor below her, a rather nasty gash in her side sending out a wave of hurt throughout her physique. Kodachi attempted to bite back the cry that was irking its way up her throat, but failed once she attempted to stand once more and fell against a nearby wall, sliding down pathetically until she was crumpled on the ground, resting on her mostly uninjured side. Although Kodachi heard the table being wheeled out of the room, she really didn't pay much attention to it; rather, her focus was on the woman coming ever closer to her form on the floor. 

Kurai knelt before Kodachi's fallen body, tilting her head slightly, her mouth and eyes stoic and expressionless. Kodachi refused to meet the woman's gaze, her own head hanging by her right side, staring at the ground. After a few moments, Kurai's left hand cupped Kodachi's right cheek, gently but forcefully moving Kodachi's face to meet her own, Kurai memorizing every single cut, bruise, line, and feature on Kodachi's pretty face. 

"I like you, Pretty," the ninja woman breathed, the two women's faces extremely close, with Kurai's index finger moving slowly up and down Kodachi's cheek, "and I don't wish to hurt you more than is necessary." Kodachi felt absolutely scared; she knew that the woman kneeling in front of her was very strong, and Kodachi was very weak in the time being.

Hovering for a moment in front of her face, Kurai ever so slowly came closer and closer, making Kodachi even more uncomfortable. Pausing for a second, Kurai sighed onto the teenager's face.

"Your lip's bleeding," Kurai whispered, her eyes fluttering and half closed. Before Kodachi could react, the ninja woman's lips had covered hers, sucking gingerly on the bottom part of her mouth. Surprised and startled, Kodachi found herself to be numb through the entire experience; not just from shock, but from pure and simple disbelief of the whole situation. 

'This is not happening, this is not happening' Kodachi repeated over and over in her mind, trying to shut her eyes and close herself off from the box of the world she was now in, but found that she couldn't. The ninja woman's eyes were half open, as if in ecstasy, and yet those damned red eyes never left Kodachi's fast watering brown ones for even a split second, not once allowing Kodachi to escape into her mind.

After a few minutes, Kurai's mouth drew back from the rhythmic gymnastic's lips. Kodachi's breath was shaky and labored, her fingers making their way up to the place where Kurai had invaded. Touching her quivering fingers lightly to the lip that was bleeding and drawing it back, Kodachi found that the wound had sealed up completely, and not a drop of blood was to be found. Kurai smiled wickedly, one fang protruding over her crimson lips.

"Welcome to your new home, Pretty," she breathed into Kodachi's ear; the Black Rose's shivering increased. Her malicious smile still plastered onto her horribly pale skin, Kurai, in an almost liquid-like grace, stood and walked from the metallic prison, closing the door tightly behind her. Kodachi heard a few locks clicking into place.

Alone, cold, and beaten bloody on the unforgivingly hard floor, Kodachi couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down her cut face; her sobs heard by no one except herself as they cruelly echoed across the dark and isolated prison.

  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Now you CAN'T say that this chapter was short. Yes, it's still all shrouded in mystery and such, but it will soon become clearer. I'm sorry that I didn't get this up by the end of January, but my internet up and decided to die on me. _O Gomen nasai for that.

Anyhoot, I'll work as fast as I can on Chapter 7. Thank you to those who reviewed this fic, I appreciate it SO MUCH! So don't forget to R/R, please! ^_^ 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Revelations

  
  


Disclaimer: As a distraction for when I run away with all the characters mentioned in this fanfic which don't belong to me, I'm gonna put Legolas at the front of the room wearing nothing but tap shoes and a rather skimpy thong in an off-shade of green. It never fails. Now tap, Elf Man, TAP! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Oh that crazy guy that looks like Link. . .

  
  


Rating: It's still rated R for mature situations, violence, language that's not quite the cleanest ever, and gratuitous use of the exclamation mark!!!!! You see, it's already started!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  
  


Author's Notes: Chapter 6 took much longer than I expected. I have no idea why. . . but it did. Perhaps the fact it was the longest chapter yet contributes to the time problem. ^^;; Hopefully, Chapter 7 won't take as long to write, but I can't guarantee anything. I've been trying to make the updates as close together as possible, but with the next semester starting tomorrow, I have no idea how long it will take. I'll try to be as quick as I can! ^_^ Special thanks goes to Naomi Athena for her wonderful help on this chapter. I honestly had no idea what this chapter was gonna be like until a couple nights ago when I talked to Nao-chan. O_O Domo arigato gozaimasu, Nao-chan! ^.^

  
  


That said, here now begins Chapter 7 of the fanfic entitled. . .

  
  
  
  


Pandora

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  
  
  


The boy before him was apparently a restless sleeper; considering what he had heard the now unconscious kendoist choking out, Ranma had a faint idea as to why. A thin sheet of cold sweat covered Kuno as he tossed and turned in his sheets, his fists clenching and unclenching in a sporadic manner, grunts and sharp breaths escaping his lips every once in a while. Whatever he was dreaming of, it certainly wasn't pleasant.

Ranma Saotome, who had finally managed to get his hands on some hot water, watched, transfixed, as his rival twitched and moved in his deep slumber. The pigtailed martial artist's thoughts ran through his head at a lightning pace, trying to organize and explain what he had saw back in the empty classroom not too long ago. From Ranma's experience in dealing with Kuno, he'd never once seen the Blue Thunder show the ability to control or use chi in any way, shape or form; besides, whatever Kuno was giving off back in the classroom was definitely not of chi origin. Ranma had something of a sixth sense when it came to chi; his ability to sense it within himself or another person was impeccably keen, and he had never once seen any of the martial energy in the kendoist. He didn't recognize it as the start of any of the techniques he or the other Nerima regulars had learned, so Kuno's little episode in the class was a definite mystery to the cursed boy. He had to find out what it was; especially if it could be a threat to him later on.

The door opposite of the chair Ranma was sitting in clicked open, shaking the black haired teenager out of his thoughts. Standing in the doorway were none other than Akane Tendo and her older sister Nabiki, both with looks of annoyance and perhaps a hint of concern apparent on their faces, Akane more so than Nabiki. The older brunette was never one for showing her emotions; always wearing the poker face, it was exceptionally good when it came to matters of the mind, such as her precious collection of exploited money. The problem was that she got so used to it, it simply stayed plastered on her face, especially after the untimely death of Mrs. Tendo. Emotions hidden deep within and swept away by a torrent of mistrust and scheming, Nabiki Tendo was quite the emotional mystery to even those who closely knew her. Akane, on the other hand, was one for wearing her mind on her sleeve; usually manifesting itself in the form of a mallet on the head or some other such form of physical brutality. While Nabiki's sly looks somewhat unnerved Ranma, he was thankful that her face couldn't beat him six ways from Sunday; Akane was more than enough in that department.

"So what's all this about, Ranma?" Akane asked, her voice depicting exactly how perturbed she was. Her hands resting comfortably and imposingly on her hips, Akane stared down the pigtailed boy sitting in the chair, the blue haired girl's eyes burning holes into Ranma's skull. Akane, always the jealous type; although this time, Ranma wasn't really sure as to why.

"Hmm, what happened to Kuno-baby?" Nabiki inquired, her attention diverted from the predictable fight that was likely to ensue to the boy lying on the cot before her. Sunlight fell in soft rays on his muscular form, his violent thrashings and movements slowly diminishing to a slight twitching movement here and there in his arms and legs. 

"What did you do to Kuno this time?" the tomboy, still staring at her reluctant fiancee, demanded in the same tone of voice. Ranma put up his hands in front of his face in a protective manner, attempting to calm Akane down before she had one of her patented tantrums in the clinical ward of the school.

"I didn't do anything to him; something really weird happened," Ranma tried to explain without upsetting the short haired girl any more or earning himself a good whacking with her mallet. Giving him a skeptical look and crossing her arms over her chest, Akane was somewhat backing down from the thought of pummeling her fiancee again. Sighing once, Ranma got up from his sitting position and stood above Akane's height, glancing at the sleeping kendoist out of the corner of her eye.

"It was strange, I think something happened to his sister," Ranma began, placing his right hand on his hip, scrutinizing Kuno, "but that's not the weird part. It's really hard to explain; it's almost as if he had this battle aura, but I couldn't sense any chi from him." 

"You're not making much sense, Ranma," Akane said, now more confused than she was before.

"It doesn't make much sense, Akane. But it is Kuno, who knows what it could be?" Ranma retorted, more of an edge in his voice than intended. He supposed it was a sort of infused reaction when talking with the mostly violent tomboy, even though he didn't mean it a lot of the time. He was a martial artist, and was trained to be one; a people person he was not.

Nabiki, meanwhile, kept relatively silent the entire time; her eyes focused on the steady rise and fall of the sleeping boy's breast. Leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, Nabiki simply watched and contemplated - something she did quite often. The girl almost laughed despite herself; he really did look innocent and cute when he slept, with his eyes slightly scrunched up like that, and his hand curled over his blankets. It was an interesting change from the normally serious and aggressive Tatewaki she had known most of her life; it was actually an almost welcomed change. He turned again in his sleep, his face knotted in an expression of worry, his right hand balled in a fist around his covers, bringing the stark white sheets up to his chin. Her eyes making their way up to his face, Nabiki noticed for the first time that the hand by his face was bandaged, with small but dark patches of red beginning to soak through. There was also a rather nasty cut under his eye. . .

"You sure you didn't do anything, Ranma?" Nabiki asked in a disbelieving tone, her deep brown eyes looking at her classmate in an emotion that was quite foreign to the mercenary girl's face - concern. Kuno turned over once again in his slumber, his hand that had once so possessively held the sheets in his grasp now falling limp by his side. His yukata top was mostly open, showcasing white bandages wrapped around the boy's mid-section, hints of blood soaking through, and ugly shades of bluish-blackish-purplish skin peeking through the more translucent parts of the gauze tape. It looked awfully severe. She bent her head so she could look Ranma straight in the eyes. 

"I told you Nabiki," Ranma began, clearly exasperated, "I didn't do noth-" Ranma's defense plea was cut off abruptly by a sharp cry, coming from the direction of where Kuno was laying. Turning their heads around, the two Tendo sisters and Ranma saw the Blue Thunder tossing his head from right to left, his face drawn in an expression of pain, anger and what could almost be described as fear. His arms and hands were reaching out to nothing, outstretched before him and searching for something, but finding only empty air. Whatever the distressed boy was saying in his feverish sleep, it was incomprehensible to the teenagers surrounding him; still, the violent convulsing continued and worsened. 

"Calm him down somehow!" Akane cried, not sure what to do in the situation. Nabiki didn't know either; she certainly was no martial artist and wasn't strong enough to hold him down. Instead, she quickly told the other two present with her that she was going to find a nurse. In the mean time, Ranma stepped forward, his strong arms outstretched, trying to protect himself in case Kuno's flailing got really out of hand. Tentatively, he placed his left hand on one of the kendoist's now bare and well muscled arms, and recoiled in a matter of seconds.

"Yeowch!" Ranma explained, cradling his hand close to his chest, sucking on one of his fingers.

"What happened, Ranma?" Akane asked worriedly, making sure to keep her strong hands on the cloth of Kuno's robe; it was still extremely warm. 

"His skin, when I touched it, it was hot as fire!" Ranma exclaimed, his finger still cooling in his mouth, and watching as a strange, crimson aura began to flare out around Kuno's body, encasing the boy in a translucent, red glow. Akane stepped back, taking in the spectacle before her with disbelieving eyes as the cardinal, almost fire-like ambience licked out towards the immediate vicinity, crackling and burning angrily, trying to devour an invisible enemy. Tatewaki's upper body was slowly lifted up by the pure force of whatever translucent, ruby atmosphere that encased him. There was a strangled sound coming from Kuno's throat, like he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite form the words necessary. With a great gasp, he fell back on the bed, the red aura slowly dissipating, leaving the boy with a thick layer of sweat glistening on his body. His breathing was ragged, strained and sounded dangerously shallow; his eyes were clenched tightly, as was his grip on his wrinkled bed sheets. Kuno's yukata was plastered to his skin, soaked completely through with his own perspiration, the bangs on his forehead no different. 

Seconds later, Nabiki came in with the resident nurse; in fact, the same nurse that had first treated Kuno's high fever. Her eyebrows knotted in concern and her delicate hands carrying a tray full of assorted liquids and sharp pointy things that looked none to pleasant, she briskly walked over to the distressing boy in the bed, effectively shooing Ranma and Akane out of the way. Pressing her palm against Kuno's forehead for a moment, she hurriedly plucked one of an assortment of needles on the sterilized tray, also taking with her a small vial of transparent liquid. Soaking the tip of the needle with a cotton swab full of rubbing alcohol, she expertly stuck the point of the instrument into the vein in Kuno's arm, dispensing whatever medicine was inside the needle into the kendoist's bloodstream. After a few moments, Kuno's breathing started to regulate, and his tossing and turning slowly began to subside. With a great and heavy sigh, Tatewaki's body finally relaxed on the soft mattress, which creaked slightly under the new weight placed on it. For a moment, all in the room stood silently and looked at the boy on the bed.

"What did you give him?" Akane asked quietly. The nurse, wiping a few arrant strands of black hair out of her eyes and tucking them safely behind her ears, picked up the tray once more and stood up.

"It's just a sedative. He was probably having a fever induced nightmare or something like that; don't worry, he should be fine," she assured them, smiling an award-winning grin that simply wreaked of maternal nurturing. She instructed that one of the people in the room should stay with him while he slept, in case something else happened; the nurse explained that currently she was the only one on duty, and there were other sick kids that needed caring. With that, the nurse, tray in hand, walked out of the starkly decorated room, the only sound to be heard in the hallway was the clacking of the maternal woman's hard shoes on the tile floor.

There was another beat of silence.

"Judging by the looks in your faces, something tells me I missed something very important," Nabiki surmised in a demanding yet smooth tone, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

"I'm just as confused by everything as you are, Nabiki. I mean, when you got a fever, your skin doesn't burn ya to the touch," Ranma breathed, his voice showing hints of bewilderment, but mostly of tiredness. Nabiki seemed quite surprised.

"Burned you? That really shouldn't be medically possible," the short haired brunette stated, her cross-armed stance remaining, although faltering somewhat. Ranma sighed and shook his head.

"I know, but Akane saw it too." Said fiancee nodded in agreement.

"Ranma, speaking of which, we can't stay with Kuno. We've got a big test after lunch, remember?" Akane said, placing her hands on her hips and looking at the slumbering teen on the bed. Ranma's face flinched.

"Damn, I forgot! Shoot, didn't study neither," Ranma griped. Akane smirked, which somewhat annoyed the pigtailed martial artist.

"Since when did you study for school anyway?" Akane teased, knowing it would milk a reaction from Ranma; she simply couldn't resist. Ranma gave a rather haughty 'hmpf', yet still had one of his trademarked arrogant smiles on his face. 

"Well, at least where I'm not good at repeating exactly when the shogunate came to power, I make up in martial arts," Ranma concluded, crossing his arms over his chest quite proudly. Akane sighed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'stupid pervert'.

"I'll stay with Kuno baby," Nabiki said, looking at Tatewaki who was now sleeping relatively peacefully. Both Ranma and Akane were waiting for some sort of sarcastic comment or the addition of Nabiki's world-famous phrase 'for a price', however nothing of such came. Instead, Nabiki seemed to be fascinated with the boy before her, Nabiki's deep chocolate eyes set in a peculiar way. 

"I mean, since the nurse said one of us had to stay, and you two lovebirds just can't miss that test. Kami knows how important your studies are to you," she quickly added, making sure to emphasize on her sarcastic 'lovebird' comment. Relieved and annoyed at the same time that Nabiki was her old self, Akane and Ranma started to leave the hospital wing, when suddenly the blue haired tomboy realized something.

"What do you mean, 'lovebirds'?" she asked, a hint of anger slipping into her voice which she was trying to keep calm, albeit poorly. Nabiki simply winked. Akane, letting out an aggravated sigh, stomped out of the hospital room, miraculously not breaking or hitting anything/one. Ranma simply shook his head and followed his fiancee out of the room, grabbing his school briefcase and closing the door relatively quietly behind him. Nabiki listened to the martial artist's feet padding along the tiles of the school floor, running to catch up to Akane, until the sound of footsteps faded into nothingness. Smiling lopsidedly and placing her hands on her hips, Nabiki muttered 'kids' under her breath, shaking her head in a fond sort of way. Both Akane and Ranma could be trying sometimes, but at other times they could actually get along quite well; Nabiki figured it was the whole pressure of the engagement between them that made them fight like starving dogs over a piece of meat, and she knew her father was certainly no help in that area. Running her hand through her short, soft hair, she turned around to face a still dozing Kuno, comfortably asleep on the bed. Nabiki pulled up a chair beside the cot, made herself as comfortable as possible, and searched the room for any form of entertainment other than watching the kendoist sleep. Scanning the room, she found it was relatively empty and, of course, devoid of amusement; the only thing close to it was a rather nice painting of a pale yellow carnation that hung on the wall, but the appeal lasted for all of ten seconds. Exhaling her breath noisily in disdain, Nabiki turned her face back to Tatewaki, slumped in the chair, and rested her head in her hand, propped up by the chair's armrest. All was quiet for that time, save the few birds twittering outside.

"Are they gone?" a soft yet richly deep voice inquired, the voice cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. Nabiki's slowly drooping head snapped up, recognizing the voice quite easily.

"Kuno?" she asked. He still looked asleep; his breathing was deep and regular, and his eyes were closed. She looked intently at him. Indeed, it was his lips that moved.

"I said, are they gone?" he repeated once more, but not in a tone of anger as such a tone of question. Nabiki didn't really know how to respond.

"You mean Ranma and Akane? Yeah, they left," she replied, a bit confused. Watching him all the while, Tatewaki's eyes slowly opened, staring at the ceiling above him, never moving another muscle. Eyeing him strangely, Nabiki crossed her arms over her chest in a rather defensive, if not haughty, position.

"Were you awake all this time?" Nabiki asked, a bit incredulous, but being careful not to let it show in her voice. 

"Perhaps," he answered calmly, never once looking at Nabiki, but continuously staring up at the ceiling. His tone seemed detached and almost apathetic. 

"How come you didn't want to talk to Akane?" Instead of responding with words, Kuno simply rolled over onto his side, his back now facing Nabiki, his eyes staring out the window to the world outside. Nabiki heard a soft grunt of pain from the kendoist; Nabiki figured it was from whatever the nasty bruise was on his stomach. Nabiki arched her eyebrow.

"What's the matter, Kuno baby? Don't wanna talk to li'l Nabiki?" the brown haired girl asked in her best 'I'm innocent and sassy and I'll bite your head off if you try anything funny' tone, trying to start a nice, normal bickering fight; one that they usually had on a daily basis. The silence was unsettling for Nabiki; usually her Kuno baby wouldn't shut up, spouting either poetry or claims that he would defeat 'that wretched Saotome' or proclaiming his undying love for either the Akane, the Pigtailed Girl, or openly wishing both.

This wasn't happening, and that certainly wasn't right to Nabiki. Without being able to see his face, the money loving Tendo couldn't read his expressions, which was part of the reason she loved arguing with him so much. Sometimes he would make the most ridiculous faces without even realizing it; she found it hard to keep her cool, calm demeanor around him now and then when he went off on a tangent about this, that or the other thing. It was something akin to fun; the fact that Nabiki usually won their battle of wits and clever insults was almost of no consequence to it.

"If I did not want to talk to you, I would not have woken up, would I have Nabiki Tendo?" Kuno implored quietly, his low voice reverberating softly against the white of the walls, faintly absorbed by the simple white drapes that hung loosely over the open window. A cool breeze wafted in, ruffling the boy's hair, creating a liquid-like sea of rich chestnut on his about-turned head; like waves they lapped the shores of Kuno's neck and forehead, dripping about his now closed and, from Nabiki's point of view, unseen grey eyes. Blinking in surprise but recovering quickly, the middle Tendo daughter shifted in her relatively uncomfortable chair so her feet were up on the nearby end table and her hands were clasped safely and firmly behind her head, getting herself into a halfway comfortable and laid-back position.

"Okay then, let's hear you talk Kuno baby. As you said, you woke up," she stated dryly, her usual tone of bemusement and lethargy creeping in bits back into her smooth voice. Sitting prettily and, in a complete contrast with other girls of her age and good looks, intelligently, Nabiki awaited Kuno's answer to her intoned question. There was a long and rather uncomfortable fit of silence raging in the small white room for a few moments. She heard the kendoist in the bed before her expel a breath cacophonously. 

"Then I suppose that was my mistake," he muttered, just loud enough for Nabiki to hear without having to strain her ears too terribly. This caused a spark of interest and renewed concern in said lounging woman; she peered down at her classmate, her face molding itself for a split second into a rather confused expression before resolving once more into the trusty poker face that was Nabiki Tendo. 

"Kuno, you're acting really strangely. What's going on with you? Start by telling me how you got those injuries," Nabiki asked, now in a more demanding tone. She was deeply troubled by the way one of her best clients. . . one of her friends, was behaving, and Nabiki hated to be left in the dark, especially by one Tatewaki Kuno. 

"I was in a fight with Saotome when I received these injuries," Kuno responded, albeit flatly, almost as if it was a rehearsed line that he had memorized to be repeated when told. Nabiki scoffed.

"I was already talking with Ranma. He said that you guys didn't fight today. Try again, Kuno baby," Nabiki said, smiling slyly. Content with the fact that she had seen through Kuno's rather poorly constructed lie and safe in the knowledge that he was going to have to confess to her what was really going on, Nabiki leaned back further in the hard chair she was seated in, letting herself slide down somewhat.

Then again, technically, Kuno wasn't lying. Tatewaki knew that he had indeed gotten the gash under his right eye from a Ranma Saotome; although one that was still lingering in his psyche and brought out in his nightmarish meditation session. A murderous Ranma Saotome. A very, very evil Ranma Saotome that, as much as he hated to admit it, still lived somewhere in his mind, tucked away until the next time Kuno's weary eyes fell shut and he entered into another sleep of torments.

'But of course' he thought sourly, 'Nabiki Tendo knows all. Why disagree and try explain when she knows she's always right? Let sleeping dogs lie, I suppose.' Quiet once again hung heavy in the room's atmosphere; the boy lost in his thoughts, the girl trying to analyze said boy to the best of her abilities. He was like a blank slate to her with his back turned, though, which annoyed Nabiki greatly.

"I would rather not explain my current condition to you right now, Nabiki," Kuno choked out, unconsciously trying to curl up into as tiny a ball as possible. His face, safely hidden from the middle Tendo's view, contorted into visage of pain as Kuno listened to his own injured ribs grind against each other in a symphony of agony; the torturous music shooting through his nerves and all throughout his body, emitting a grunt of pain through his clenched teeth despite his best efforts to quell it. 

Ever since he was little, Tatewaki had been taught that showing your pain and weakness to another person - never mind Nabiki Tendo, of all the human race - was of great shame and dishonour. The absolute worst disgrace, though, was crying; something that Kuno hated to do yet, despite how much he tried, he couldn't hold back his flood of tears in front of one of the only people he really loved - his Pigtailed Girl. She had witnessed Kuno as nothing but a blubbering wreck; someone weak, someone unworthy of being a true man. Time and time again he had tried to prove his manliness to his loves Akane and The Pigtailed Girl, how he could provide for them and protect them in their hours of need. . . yet there he was, on that damned windowsill, being consoled by the red-haired goddess for being weak and pathetic.

Kuno didn't want her pity. Certainly, the last thing he wanted was for Akane Tendo to see him in such a fragile and decrepit disposition either; having the Pigtailed Girl as a beholder of his weakness was horrid as it is, but for Akane to show her goddamned pity and Ranma Saotome there to laugh at him and berate him even more and steal his loves away from him while he watched, pathetic and vulnerable, unable to do anything to stop him. . .

Nabiki had stayed, Kuno's mind transmitted to him, in an effort to slow the beating of his heart, which had suddenly risen during Tatewaki's assessment of himself in relation to those around him. The logical, underused part of his brain began to kick in, as if to draw attention away from his volatile, emotional self and into safe, analytical ground. Unconsciously, Kuno chewed at his bottom lip as the gears in his mind turned, double-tasking at shutting out the pain in his abdomen and his raging emotions. Kuno found it strange how, suddenly, he was extremely aware of the emotions he was feeling, and how he could almost segregate them entirely from his being. Despite the fact that Kuno could actually separate his logic from his feelings, it was an extreme mental strain, and such clear, rational thinking wouldn't be sustained for long. In this case, the heavy silence which again invaded the room was his friend. 

Welcomed by the injured boy, silence rolled into the room like it owned the placed, filling up every crevice of all corners of the hospital-like room, taking up all the space and successfully driving Nabiki slowly to madness. The girl had long since gotten out of her 'relaxed' position, settling for a more business-like look, with her legs crossed over one another, and her hands clenching within her lap. Although untrained in the use of chi energy, tenseness and frustration clearly licked all through Nabiki's aura, slowly building up. Nabiki hated the fact that Kuno was completely in charge with this particular exchange and that he wasn't being very responsive; more so, Nabiki could sense the fact that something was rather amiss with the kendoist she had known most of her life, and while many strange things happened to her and her family daily, it was more in a ridiculous, fun sense, and Nabiki could take full advantage of it. This situation seemed not to be ridiculous, fun, or easily exploited. There was something that ran deeper, and Nabiki was itching to find out. She couldn't wait any longer.

"Kuno, tell me what's the matter with you. I can make it worth your while," Nabiki began, starting with her basic and most solid stance on deception; promises, promises, and more promises, "in fact, I have some new and rather skimpy pictures of both Akane and The Pigtailed Girl. I can sell them to you for half price if you tell me what's eating you."

"I am not interested, now please stop bothering me," Kuno replied in a detached tone, his voice melancholy and monotonous, a far cry from his decidedly usual self. Nabiki scowled in frustration, but decided to push the envelope a little further. The boy was bound to crack soon, like he always did.

"Are you sure, Kuno baby? I have them right here in my school bag. I may even consider a third of your normal price," the Tendo daughter retorted slyly, reaching into her school briefcase and pulling out a couple choice snapshots of a wet and angry Ranma running topless through the women's bath, chasing a guilty-looking Happosai with a bag of stolen panties slung around his back. Kuno decided to give it a quick glance over his shoulder before settling back into his previous position.

"I said I am not interested Nabiki Tendo," he stated evenly; a venomous sort of edge was oozing its way into Kuno's voice, trickling down his throat ever so slowly and cementing its dangerous presence inside his vocal chords. Although deflated slightly, Nabiki decided not to heed Kuno's request and push a little farther. Surely he couldn't resist the photos; it was always easy money for Nabiki, and Kuno hadn't seen any problems with it. She knew that just one more push would probably do it. Leaning forward and closer to Kuno with a fistful of snapshots in hand, Nabiki began to speak once more.

"I can also give you a set of five for less than your regular charge," the girl said slyly, smiling to herself. Sets always seemed to perk Kuno up. . . in more way than one, Nabiki surmised.

"No, Nabiki. Now please, leave me alone!" Still, he did not turn around, and although he tried to keep a steady and even tone, the hard edge definitely increased. It sounded almost as if he was trying to concentrate on something else.

She was a bit perturbed, but certainly not defeated. Nabiki Tendo never lost a money deal; this time was going to be no different, she was assured. Biting her lip and pulling out a rather racy set of pictures, Nabiki figured that, aside from the fact she would be making more money, she would be able to establish a sort of common ground between the two. Although she was used to the extraordinary taking place in her house, this new side of Kuno really troubled her. This time the pictures would work, and Kuno would start to pay up the yen. It would all work out; Nabiki, the problem solver slash money mongrel, always made sure it did and that it made a profit for her. The brunette sifted through her newly found photos; no man, mind Kuno, would be able to say no to these. 

"Alright, then how about these lovely photos of both your Pigtailed Goddess and Akane together in some very interesting poses that I think yo-"

"I SAID NO, NOW LEAVE ME BE!" he suddenly screamed, whirling around to face the middle Tendo daughter. His eyes were ablaze, and Nabiki could've sworn that his naturally cool grey eyes were tinted with a fiery orange. Nabiki jumped back in her chair, giving out a frightened yelp as she did so, noticing that a faint but positively blazing aura surrounded Kuno, permeating the immediate area with an unmistakably angry heat. 

Kuno breathed hard, trying his best to slow the beating of his now frantic heart and soothe the gushing sound that was pounding in his ears. His jaw was set in an angry scowl, and his eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits. After a few moments of seemingly being frozen in time watching Nabiki's face expressions turn from scheming to surprised to downright frightened in a matter of seconds, the Blue Thunder's breathing began to regulate, and the fiery aura began to disappear.

It was then he realized what he had done. He had been extremely close to striking out at Nabiki, a near defenseless girl when it came to martial arts, and he could have seriously hurt her with his new developing "power" that was yet to be controlled. His eyes suddenly widened with the cognizance that he could have easily killed one of his only friends, no matter how conniving or pushy they could be. He could have slaughtered Nabiki so swiftly, so quickly, that she wouldn't have had time to react. He knew it.

It scared him deeply. The worst part about it all, though, was the insane rush of power and glee that ran through him at the thought of being able to so easily overpower the girl, to strike her down and kill her. It made him utterly sick to his stomach.

"I. . . Nabiki, I am sorry," Tatewaki began, his voice soft and his eyes cast downwards in shame and dismay, once again turning his back to the brown-haired teenager. He balled up the sheets in his hand, squeezing them, hoping to relieve some of the tension and utter illness he felt within and for himself.

Once again, there was silence.

"No, Kuno, I. . ." A beat passed; tension surmounted the two teenagers as each sat in a hushed kind of shock .

"I should go," she whispered flatly, quickly rising from her chair and marking her exit with a quick and efficient slam of the door.

Tatewaki Kuno buried his face in his hands. Numerous thoughts swirled in his confused mind, each of them trying to sort themselves out and find that special slot of logic that was usually reserved for the contemplations of the Blue Thunder, but had yet to find their place in the pattern of order and reason. Kuno suspected it would be a long while before he did. His entire body shook, and the boy tried his best to hide his face from view, despite the fact that there was no one in the room with him; he felt so ashamed - of his feelings, his actions, and his hostility towards someone who couldn't defend themselves.

"I am a monster," the forlorn kendoist whispered into his hands, scrunching his eyes as tight as he possibly could. A cool breeze wafted in through the window, making it's way to Kuno's general direction, coiling around his body much to the effect of a serpent after catching its prey.

"Not a monster, Tacchi. Just confused," came an oddly familiar voice, but not from the doorway. Snapping his head up, the boy turned his head to where he had heard the verbalization come from, scanning the area for evidence of a person. He didn't have to look far to spot the green tank-top, black plat-formed boots, and billowing brown and yellow streaked hair sitting rather comfortably on the large windowsill protruding on the outside of the school.

"Noryoku!" Kuno gasped in surprise, his eyes wide with shock. In return, Noryoku simply smiled a wry sort of grin that spoke volumes for itself.

"In the flesh," she responded softly, a twinkle glinting in her emerald coloured eyes, matching the dazzlingly droll curve of the lips present on her face. The tranquil wind flitting about gently caressed her hair, fiddling with it, allowing it to billow around her lithe form and accent her face. She laughed playfully at Kuno's rather perplexed and shocked expression currently residing on his features.

"Nice impression of a fish you've got going there Tacchi," she giggled, replacing her once satirical-looking grin with a warm and glowing smile that seemed right at home below her radiating eyes. Realizing that, indeed, Noryoku's statement about the fish was quite true, Kuno quickly shifted his gaze from her eyes to his more comfortable resting place of the covers balled up in his fists. This certainly didn't go unnoticed by the woman perched on the sill.

"How long have you been here?" the kendoist asked quietly, his eyes firmly transfixed on the pattern of shadows that danced on the white linen held tightly within his grasp. They could have almost matched the colour of the bandage around his knuckles if they weren't stained deep red by the wounds hidden underneath.

"Long enough," she began, tilting her head, her smile fading in its glamour to a soft curve of concern and knowing. "You certainly have an interesting relationship with that short-haired girl, Nabiki wasn't it?" 

"Interesting is not how I would describe it," Tatewaki remarked quietly, scrunching up the sheets in his hand in an even tighter ball. Noryoku stretched herself out comfortably, balancing carefully but making it look like the easiest thing in the world.

"Well that's you, isn't it? Ah l'amour, the beauty and bane of our existence," the brown haired woman sighed, looking at Kuno out of the corner of her eye for a certain reaction. She got what she wanted.

"How dare you suggest that I am in love with that scheming, conniving wench! I belong to Akane Tendo and the Pigtailed girl, certainly not Nabiki!" he burst out, swerving his gaze to meet that of Noryoku's, his eyes wide with what an inexperienced and naive person would assume to be rage. She knew better; too much better to be fooled.

"Is that how you truly feel?" she inquired, her eyes imploring with a facade of innocence plastered amongst them, "and is that why you are so familiar with her that you don't even use her last name like you do with your other two proclaimed loves?" Kuno glared at her horribly.

"A slip of the tongue."

"A slip of the heart?"

"Be silent for once." And with that, Noryoku burst out laughing right on the windowsill, attracting the attention of some rather astonished students below. Despite his best attempts to sulk and stay dark and gloomy, the Blue Thunder couldn't help but surrender a well fought against smirk to break out onto his face at the utter absurdity of it all. After a few moments, the woman's laughter died down to a few giggles here and there, and she set her face into a more serious expression.

"So why are you up here, Tacchi?" she asked, earnestly this time, her face imploring, "it had to be something fairly serious." Kuno sighed despondently, running his right hand through his now messy mop of chestnut brown hair and looking away from the windowsill, at the now empty chair beside him. Noryoku tilted her head.

"I sense that you don't really want to tell me," she stated, stretching herself out comfortably on the window's ledge, crossing her arms behind her head and her legs over one another, "don't worry, I've probably been through the same thing, if not worse." The kendoist furrowed his brow for a moment, considering his options and weighing what Noryoku said in his mind. Finally, he reached his conclusion, and turned his focus once more to view the woman relaxing comfortably on the stone ledge.

"I suppose I do not have much of a choice in this matter, do I? You are going to find out sooner or later, why not make it easier for both of us," he commented flatly, raising one eyebrow. She, in turned, smiled once again in a half-way fashion, turning her head slightly to look at the foliage surrounding the school.

"You're smarter than most people give you credit for, you know that Tacchi?" she began, now looking at said boy out of the corner of her eye, "you're just too damn proud and stubborn to really let it show through rational thinking."

"Well, you have just got me all figured out now, don't you?" he replied sharply, sneering sarcasm biting through his voice. Although hints of surprise splotched Noryoku's face here and there, she still appeared to be relaxed and, for the most part, in control.

"I didn't say that I did. I realize that, right now, you probably don't want to talk to anyone at all, mind a strange woman you just met a day ago. I don't want to pressure the matter," she explained gently, an almost maternal tone creeping into her voice, "I just want to help you."

A breeze made it's way through the window, ruffling Kuno's samurai garb somewhat, bringing in with it some arrant cherry blossom petals from the tree nearest the hospital wing. One blossom, such a light pink that it was almost a lighter shade of pale, drifted and flitted along the soft air current, tumbling over itself until it settled comfortably into Kuno's somewhat open palm. He brought his hand up closer to his face, looking with distant curiosity at the small petal that felt so silky smooth against his skin. Such a simple thing, a cherry blossom petal, yet so intricately beautiful, once studied further. Tatewaki's eyes followed the small, light red, and nearly invisible veins all around the tiny blossom, noting each small crinkle and fold on the flower petal. He felt almost as if he could lose himself in all the soft twists and turns of blossom's vessels.

It was then the door was opened with a hushed click, startling Kuno out of his almost dream-like trance. Swerving his head quickly, he saw none other than Nabiki Tendo in the doorway, looking down at Kuno for a moment before turning her head away.

"I forgot my school bag," she explained emotionlessly. True to her word, Nabiki's black briefcase was leaning against the right leg at the end of Kuno's bed. Quickly bending down and grabbing the bag by its handle, Nabiki noticed a small pink cherry blossom float by her face, landing on her black school bag, creating a sharp contrast of light and dark. Blinking once and thoughtlessly brushing it aside, Nabiki stood at full height once more, doing her best to avert her eyes from the boy sitting up in the bed. The click of her shoes echoed painfully throughout the small hospital-like room as she walked towards the door.

Kuno, meanwhile, had discerned that Noryoku was no longer sitting on the windowsill; it was as if she up and disappeared on him when Nabiki had opened the door. Amazed and puzzled at the same time, Kuno decided to switch his line of sight from the now strangely empty window to the girl walking out of the room. He watched her. How her skirt flowed about her with each step, how her shortly-cropped mahogany hair wavered and glinted in the rays of sunlight, how her deep brown eyes were set stoically ahead. . .

For the first time, Tatewaki realized that Nabiki Tendo was beautiful. 

Yet, it was not in the classic, pure sense like her younger sister or the Pigtailed Girl; this was a different kind of beautiful. She was cold, distant, unreachable; almost like a fallen angel, an enigma. For a brief moment, Kuno thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to understand what was happening and make it right. She was smart; she always knew what to do, was always so sure. . .

"Nabiki?" the boy asked hesitantly, looking up at her, expectancy etched on his handsome features. Nabiki froze in her steps.

"Yes, Kuno?" she asked, her tone flat and apathetic, not once glancing in Kuno's direction. Her grip visibly tightened on the handle of her school case; this did not go unnoticed by the kendoist in the bed beside her. He sighed and let his head droop down; if Nabiki was sure of something, she would never act like this. She seemed so nervous in his presence, so uncomfortable. That could only mean one thing.

She didn't know the answer.

"Never mind," he mumbled quietly and, surprisingly, softly. At this time, Nabiki chanced a peek at her friend; she was rewarded with the view of his profile silhouetted against the bright sun splashing in through the open window. His messy hair hung over his forehead and clung to it with some sweat; his lips were curved downwards, and his eyes. . . his gorgeous, grey eyes, looked like they were shimmering with tears. Nabiki's heart bled for him, it really did; but there was nothing that she could do for him.

Pushing her hair behind her ears with her left hand, Nabiki Tendo quickly exited the room and shut the door behind her. With the closing of the sparse, white entrance, Kuno could almost feel a part of him slip away from him too; he could always rely on intelligent Nabiki to have an answer, whether it be during history class or the whereabouts of the Pigtailed Girl. She always knew; but now, she could barely utter three words to him.

His eyes focused downwards onto the palm of his hand, where the tiny cherry blossom still sat. He let a single tear drop splash down on the small petal before closing his strong fist around it, effectively crushing it into dust between his fingers. Kuno opened his hand, and gazed despairingly at the diminutive pile of pink powder sitting in it. The wind soon took care of his problem, though; it came through the open window, lifting the remains of the cherry blossom from Kuno's hand and blowing it gently throughout the small hospital room, scattering itself all over the furniture and floor.

"Hard, isn't it? Trying to find someone to care and understand. You're lucky that I'm still here, Tacchi," said a voice that was quite recognizable to the boy sitting in the bed. Turning his attention once more to the window, he saw Noryoku now expertly swinging herself back into her original sitting position on the sill. Deciding against asking how or why Noryoku did what she did, Kuno simply nodded in assent with her comment. A silent fury shone in his eyes.

"Lucky. Is that what you call me? I am developing an extremely volatile power that could kill the ones I love with a single errant thought, and I do not know whether my sister is alive or dead. I am just damned blessed, now aren't I?" Kuno bit off sarcastically, his voice hardening considerably. For once, Noryoku looked suprised.

"What do you mean you don't know whether your sister's alive or dead?" she implored, sitting forward and looking intently at Kuno.

"Last night, after I came home from talking with you about my. . . my power, I find my sister Kodachi's room completely destroyed and stained with blood," Kuno began, his eyes narrowing and misting over, "and the only clue I have as to who did it is a note."

"What did the note say?" the woman on the windowsill asked, dread crawling into her voice and gripping her heart.

"It was written in blood; p-probably Kodachi's blood," Kuno said, his breath starting to catch in his throat as he relieved the horror he saw in his house the night before, "and it s-said 'Pandora's Box has been opened'."

Noryoku seemed to be frozen in shock for a split second, her mouth slightly agape. In an instant and without word or warning, she jumped from the window to land on the branches of a nearby tree below; she hopped from branch to branch and tree to tree until she was well away from the school and Kuno's hospital-like room.

Tatewaki continued to stare at the window, wondering why Noryoku had reacted so idiosyncratically to what was on the note in Kodachi's bedroom, but beginning to form ideas of his own. Perhaps Noryoku was involved with what happened to his sister; maybe everything she was saying was a lie. Maybe not. At the moment, Kuno was much too confused and much too tired to press any of the points to a further degree.

The kendoist leaned back on the frame of his rather small bed, his hands resting in his lap as he tried to become as relaxed as possible. He was about to reach out and grab the sheets to pull over himself when he noticed that a minuscule, barely visible something had fallen into his open palm. He brought his hand up to eye level.

It was a cherry blossom.

It was also then that he noticed he was glowing a strange grey colour.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oh my GOD this took a long time to finish. I am SO SORRY for the lack of update and this crappy chapter. v_v This was originally supposed to be 20+ pages, but I struggled so much through this one scene that I figured 'Okay, enough's enough, let's just update the damn story already'. Very sorry that it took so long for me to write this tiny tidbit. Oy! _

Well, anyhoot, as usual, R/R very much appreciated! ^_^ 


	8. Violations

  
  


Disclaimer: This is Fuzzy Bunny. Fuzzy Bunny decided one fine afternoon that it would be a grand idea to pretend to own the characters of Ranma ½. Fuzzy Bunny laughed and played and frolicked about in a grassy meadow (that was really the gardening section of Wal-Mart), with certain well-known characters of an equally well-known manga. Fuzzy Bunny was soon found by the FBI and brutally shot to death in front of a crowd of ravenous half-Mongolian communists. Since I don't want this happening to me, I'd like to make it clear that I don't own Ranma ½ in any way, shape, or form. Hopefully this will lengthen my life, so that the memory of poor Fuzzy Bunny may live on. . .

  
  


Author's Notes: I'll be the first to admit that I've been as lazy as hell lately. It's. . . *squints at calendar* April 12th right now. I'm hoping to finish this chapter before the end of the month, or at least the first week of May. I suppose I'll know when it's done when you're reading this. Huh. That'll be kinda weird, it'll be like "Oooh, I know the future now!!". Or I'm being an idiot, which is probably the case.

ANYHOOT.

Once again, thank you ever so much Nao-chan for your continued support! ^_^ Check out Pandora's official website at: http://www.soliloquies.net/pandora/ We gots fanart, an' fanfics, an' an ABOUT SECTION!! It's spiffy swell, for there you learn 'about' things. Such a clever title for such a clever section. . . *wanders off into strange and nonsensical musings about artist renderings of people*

  
  


Rating: Yes Virginia, this is it - the chapter that officially bumps 'Pandora' up from R all the way to a well-deserved NC-17! Whoo hoo! ^_^ I'd also like to take the time to give y'all a little WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS LEMONY FRESHNESS THAT IS REALLY KINDA WEIRD. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THIS, THEN DON'T READ IT! You have been warned; please don't flame me about the gross parts and schtuff, for I will proclaim a 'Dah-hah!' unto you.

  
  


*cough* So, yeah. Some prettycoolprettycoolprettycool stuff which is entitled. . .

  
  


Pandora

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


The room stank of blood that had been ripened and dried with the inevitable passing of time. It clung to the air's scent like the previous occupants of the room had probably clung to the hope of rescue or, after a longer period of time stayed within the metal prison, immediate death. Streaks of blood disturbingly shaped like fingers dragging across the wall were commonplace; one person was desperate enough to try and claw their way out of the steel room, their intentions made clear by fingernails still bonded to the wall with dried, red lifeblood. The single, bare lightbulb swaying in the centre of the prison, creaking under influence of its own age, cast ghostly rays of artificial light on the macabre displays of fatality and desperation for escape.

Despite this, Kodachi Kuno stumbled along, leaning against the slippery wall for a support that really wasn't there. Blood trickled down her skin from cuts all over her body, absorbed by the silken nightgown she wore, staining it red in some spots, others starting to turn brown. She felt weak from blood loss, and her limbs were still shaky from being jarred, dislocated, and relocated once more; not to mention the throbbing pain in her head. Bloodied and trembling hands fumbled around the metallic sides of the enclosure, searching for an as of yet invisible way out; so far, Kodachi had found nothing of the sort. The black haired teenager limped her way over to the door, which seemed to be locked on the outside. Shifting her body weight completely against the door and pushing with all her might, Kodachi quickly concluded that there was no way out of the cell, diminishing her spirit even more. 

"D. . . dammit. . ." the girl breathed, righting herself as much as she could without collapsing. She was starting to get dizzy and extremely tired; standing was becoming a trying feat in itself. Her bare feet scratched over the rough mats of the cell with each step she took, filling the room with the unsteady footsteps of Kodachi as she hobbled over to the far end of the prison, using the wall for constant support. Finally reaching the corner of the steel box farthest from the door, the wilting Black Rose allowed herself to collapse against the wall and slide down, leaving a small trail of blood in her wake. In a heap in the dark corner of the prison and her mind, the teenager shuddered, wrapping her arms around her legs in an attempt to get warm - the room was deathly cold, and her blood soaked nightgown wasn't doing much for coverage or protection. She hugged her knees as close to her chest as was possible without causing waves of pain to course through her body; it was hard, but Kodachi managed. She curled into herself as much as she could, attempting to do the same on the mental level. It was so much easier just to dissolve into her thoughts and imaginations; reality was just too hard to face now.

'I am alone and weak and nobody knows where I am,' one part of her brain said, 'I am going to die.' 

'No, I refuse to do that!' another, more enthusiastic and romantic side of her mind chimed in, 'I only have to wait for Ranma Darling to rescue me!' This one thought was the proverbial rainbow amidst the torrential downpour of her heart; Ranma Darling would always come through for her, he always knew what to do. Of course he would come.

Wouldn't he?

"Ranma Darling. . ." Kodachi whispered into the abyss of darkness enveloping her place in the Underground; she unconsciously drew her knees even tighter against her chest, scrunching up her eyes to dispel the tears quickly gathering, ready to spill over on to her bloodied cheek. Kodachi attempted to fill the void in her mentality and heart with images and contemplations of her beloved and noble martial artist; his soft blue eyes, his silky smooth black hair, and how his pigtail would flow like water in the sea of a breeze that would be lucky enough to touch the perfect skin of such a perfect individual. Surprisingly, it gave her little comfort; her memories and thoughts also reminded her exactly how far away she could be from him, since she couldn't rightly tell where she was at all. There were no windows in her prison, and the only door was locked; for all she knew, she wasn't even in Japan anymore, mind Nerima.

Her depressing train of thought was promptly derailed by the sound of crashing glass outside of the doorway to her cell. Her reverie destroyed, Kodachi's head snapped up to face the general direction of the noise; straining her ears to the best of her abilities despite her pounding headache, the rhythmic gymnast was sure she heard shuffling feet near her cell. Male voices soon followed, and although Kodachi couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, she was experienced enough with her own family to know when somebody sounded drunk. She then heard the jangling of keys; now that they were closer to her prison, she could hear the distinct footsteps of two different people - and one of them had put their key into the lock on the door.

It opened with a 'click', echoing in the sterile metal box of a cell. Light spilled out into Kodachi's holding prison, blinding her for a moment; she raised her hand to shield herself from the light until her eyes adjusted accordingly. Blinking a couple times, the rhythmic gymnast slowly lowered her arm, still squinting her eyes so she could see who was now with her in her confined room.

She could smell them before she saw them properly - alcohol radiated off of them in waves, reaching Kodachi's nose and making her feel utterly sick. Soon, her sight was regained, and she could now observe these two men with more basis than just the stench of Wild Turkey times ten. Her heart pounded within her chest; she knew this couldn't be good.

The first man who was standing closest to Kodachi was wavering oh so slightly, but still managed to maintain his balance somewhat; although his dignity was definitely another story. He had unruly and unkempt black hair that looked as if it had seen better days; his green, military-style camouflage jacket hung loosely on his slightly muscular frame, with a black shirt underneath. He had matching camouflage-style pants and black lace-up boots that was covered in a sticky liquid. Kodachi presumed it was the contents of whatever had shattered outside of her cell.

The other man, who was leaning against the wall behind the black-haired one, was taking a generous gulp of a whisky bottle, allowing his chin-length brown hair to hang in his eyes of the same colour. His outfit was akin to his friend's; his black shirt clung to his muscular frame, with his army jacket tied securely around his waist. His camouflage pants comfortably hugged his legs, spreading some of the cloth on his bare feet. He had the blissful and far-away look that most drunken people wore after one too many brewskies.

"Well, well, well, whadda we got here?" the black haired guy asked in a mocking tone, eyeing Kodachi closely, "looks like that psycho bitch got a new play toy." The other man near the door of the prison agreed with a loud laugh.

"No shit, Akira!" he said between insane laughs, also taking time to have another hearty swig of booze, his eyes now resting on Kodachi's body, "but she's got good taste, at least." The teenaged girl felt herself shudder under his gaze; she hated the way his eyes were lingering on her bare legs, craning his neck to try to see what was just above her thighs. Kodachi did her best to cover herself with her flimsy nightdress, without much success; the brown haired man simply laughed at her attempt to conceal herself and drank once more.

The black haired man, Akira, smirked and sauntered up to where Kodachi was huddled, slamming his hands palm-open onto the wall directly above her, giving Kodachi a greater sense of entrapment. Akira let his head droop down, staring down the crevice of the girl's nightgown, smiling wickedly all the while.

"She's got great tits, eh Satoshi?" he called back to his friend, who was stumbling forward, managing to keep his balance, surprisingly. Kodachi wanted nothing more than to rightly break every single bone in both their bodies, and under normal circumstances she could easily do so. Her eyes narrowed, staring directly up at the man with his arms on the wall; her mouth was set firmly in a disgusted and angry scowl, her face flushing a deep red. 

"H-how dare you speak t-to me like that, y-you perverts!" Kodachi managed to say; while she couldn't shout like she wanted to, her tone was dangerously angry. However, her intended effect was lost on the drunken man above her.

"Ooh, feisty are we?" Akira said, mockingly. He slid his hands down the length of the wall until he was in a crouching position directly in front of Kodachi's face, and frighteningly close. With a sadistic grin plastered on his face, the black haired man powerfully slapped Kodachi's left cheek hard, leaving a deep red hand imprint where he had hit her. She couldn't fight back the cry that issued from her lips as her head impacted on the side of the wall from the force of the slap. With her eyes scrunched close, Kodachi refused to turn her head to look at Akira.

"Don't tell me how I can an' can't talk, bitch," Akira uttered, forcing Kodachi to face him with his right hand, his fingers painfully squeezing her cheeks. Lifting her hand to strike the man back, Kodachi tried to swing her fist to Akira's face to hit him; however, in her weakened state, Kodachi hadn't the speed or force to do any damage. Satoshi, the brown haired man, caught her wrist in his iron grip before it could get anywhere close to his friend's face. His clutch was hard, and beginning to bruise her wrist; try as she might, she couldn't get herself free from his grasp. Though drunk, he was still extremely strong.

"Me an' Satoshi ain't gotten a day off in a long time, us workin' our asses off down here," he began, securing Kodachi's other hand in his left fist, trailing the fingers of his free hand down her cheek and neck, "an' hell, we haven't had much fun in a while." His coarse fingers dragged along her skin, creating goose bumps in its wake, making her blood run cold. He roughly fondled Kodachi's breast, smiling lecherously. 

Gasping and in an attack that was pure instinct, Kodachi's left leg shot up, kicking Akira squarely in the jaw, forcing him to let go of her hand and her chest. He stumbled back for a few seconds, more surprised than hurt - surprise which quickly turned into anger.

"You stupid slut!" he yelled, rubbing his mouth where he had been hit. Quickly stalking over, he yanked Kodachi roughly up onto her feet, then threw her into the adjacent metal wall. She crashed with a sickening cracking sound and a sharp cry of pain, slumping to the ground, without the power to get back up again. Her body screamed in both torment and fear as both Akira and Satoshi leered at her.

"Bet she's tight," Satoshi slurred, downing the last of his drink and carelessly throwing the glass into a forgotten corner of the cell, the shattering of the glass resounding through the prison, "wanna find out?" Akira answered his friend's question with a low, throaty laugh, cracking his knuckles together, turning his attention to the girl, lying broken on the floor.

Kodachi's eyes widened in terror as they slowly approached her, their eyes never leaving her lithe form. Doing her best to scramble away but failing nonetheless, the rhythmic gymnast figured that, perhaps, she could get a few good kicks to their temples and knock them unconscious if she was lucky. Then again, luck hadn't been on her side for the past day or so, and both of them were powerful guys.

Without warning, Satoshi darted behind Kodachi, grabbing her hands and, with a piece of rope he had brought along with him for this "special occasion", bound them above her head securely. Akira did much the same with her ankles, leaving Kodachi even more defenseless and open than she already was. The teenaged girl pulled ruthlessly at the ropes, desperately trying to break free, even though she knew it was no good; despite the fact they were drunk as hell, they were still fast. Not as fast as Kodachi when at full health, but fast enough to take advantage of the situation.

And her.

She felt the hot breath on her neck as Satoshi leaned over her, kneeling between her tied arms so she wouldn't be able to try and hit him in the face again, his hands snaking towards her bust at a pace just torturous enough so she could feel his scratchy skin every inch of the way. The stench of alcohol passed from Satoshi's breath to Kodachi's nose, making her disgusted and scared simultaneously. 

With frightening ease, Satoshi broke the silk straps holding the top portion of her nightgown up; he slid the material down, exposing Kodachi's well formed breasts, making her gasp in shock at the sudden sensation of cold air on her sensitive skin. The chilled feeling was quickly replaced by the warm and sticky hands of the man behind her; he grabbed her chest tightly and painfully, squeezing them between his rough fingers. Strangled cries were all Kodachi could manage as she tried, desperately, to stop Satoshi by repeatedly hitting his back. Of course, he hardly felt it; she was so weak and tired as it was, and with the positioning of her tied hands, it wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway. Satoshi soon silenced her whimpers and sobs by covering her lips with his; she tasted the bittersweet liquor on his tongue as he forced it inside her mouth, still roughly kneading her breasts with his large hands. 

Meanwhile, Akira had taken much the same position as Satoshi had, but between Kodachi's legs, which were kicking thin air in desperation. His hands crawled up her legs, rubbing them, savoring their satiny feel under his dirt-encrusted fingertips. The man slowly pushed up the skirt part of her ripped nightgown, groping every inch of her skin along the way. While her bound legs protested with kicks that managed to do nothing but waste her energy, Akira continued to force the silk material up her legs, finally up to her thighs. Staring back at him was the most private part of the girl bound on the floor, tiny wisps of black hair protruding from her mound. He licked his lips in anticipation, feeling the minute and uncontrollable trembling of Kodachi under his hands; her breath was also shaky and scared, catching in her throat at times.

"No, please!" she pleaded, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't believe this was happening; she was saving herself for her darling Ranma, and now he was going to take that away from her. Ranma Darling was supposed to be the one she was going to share her first experience with - she couldn't have her dream so brutally ripped away from her, it was unthinkable! Impossible!

Yet it was happening.

Although Kodachi couldn't see him, she heard the unmistakable 'zip' as his pants dropped to the ground. His breathing was ragged and heavy with lust; Akira could feel the heat from Kodachi's pelvis, and he couldn't wait any longer. Without warning, he forcefully parted Kodachi's legs as she continued to scream and cry, begging him to stop.

"No, please Kami no. . . help me, please, help me Ranm-AAAAAH!" she cried out as he thrust into her, tearing through her hymen mercilessly, sending a whole new wave of pain throughout Kodachi's body. She felt the breath being sucked out of her as the feeling of being impaled registered in her brain; Kodachi wanted nothing more than to cry out in pain and frustration, however Satoshi had once more began to force his tongue into her mouth. Tears were freely pouring down both cheeks, now unable to be stopped by her sheer willpower alone; she could feel the bruises begin to form under Satoshi's hands from his rough groping of her tender breasts, and unwittingly tasting the liquor on his tongue. 

Akira began to slowly move in and out of Kodachi, forcing himself deeper and deeper into her with each thrust, drawing a muffled cry from Kodachi's lips each time. The man was sure that Kodachi wouldn't have been a virgin - how many chaste 16-year-olds were there nowadays? - but feeling her, so tight around him, and newly broken, sure made things a hell of a lot more fun. He could see the trickles of blood streaming out of her, creating a small, red puddle on the ground; some of it was coating his member, which continued forcing itself into the scared girl. His grunts were animalistic, lust fueling each breath and sound that he made, yet drowned out by Kodachi's silent cries which were speaking volumes for themselves. The once proud girl's fingers curled and uncurled weakly behind Satoshi's back, bound and powerless to do anything - fingers that could have easily snapped both of their necks, fingers that *should* be snapping both of their necks right now. It was worse torture for her to be so helpless in such a horrendous situation than the actual pain of having her virginity ripped from her. Kodachi closed her eyes, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, if she couldn't see it, it would go away, and that she would be safe at home with Sasuke and Tatchi and this was all a dream and it never happened and that oh Kami-sama why did it hurt so much? 

It was then that Kodachi felt the tiny, warm droplets on her face. Her mind, blurred with pain and humiliation as it was, didn't seem able to register exactly what was sliding down her cheek. She did notice, however, that Satoshi's mouth, which had just been heatedly pressing itself into hers, was suddenly very slack and weak. Tentatively, the bound girl opened her eyes. . .

. . . to see blood red ones staring back at her. Kodachi found herself too paralyzed with fear to scream as the woman standing above her brought Satoshi's corpse into view. His eyes were glassy and open, his shirt and jacket stained with dark red blood; protruding from where his heart presumably once sat was a shiny, metal sickle, dripping in the man's life force. The ninja woman allowed her arm to drop, and the drunken man's body to slide off the blade with a sick, slurping sound, hitting the ground with a dull thud. She calmly walked forward, towards Akira, who had by now seen the grisly remainders of his partner. 

Stoically she strolled over to the man huddling in the corner, who was trying to find a way out of this situation. The woman narrowed her eyes at him, and brought her other arm up in front of her face. It was then that Kodachi witnessed something that she would never forget as long as she lived.

It was like a small tremor that wove its way up Kurai's forearm, snaking through her veins, muscle and skin. Slowly, with a sucking, ripping sound, the skin on her arm began to part, blood flowing freely from it, dripping onto the ground below. Muscle was plainly visible, as was something else that was trying to escape from inside her human tissue; it glinted, reflecting the light that the minuscule bulb in the centre of the room radiated. With the sound akin to butchering meat, a lengthy, metal sickle slid out of her arm, the base of it remaining attached to her sinew, skin wrapping around it protectively. The blood flow from her arm stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

Akira stared, horrified at the woman before him. Within the blink of an eye, Kurai brought her second scythe down on the man, slicing his throat clear open, a splash of blood spotting the woman's ashen, yet impassive face. Her other arm, the one that had impaled Satoshi, quickly embedded itself into Akira's stomach, drawing a horizontal line across his abdomen in a slow, torturous manner, watching as his insides spilled out over her blade. His face, set forever in an expression of horrified fear, gazed ahead, the stench of death beginning to overtake him.

She tried to will herself to not allow what was currently making its way up her throat and into her mouth to be vomited all over the cell; however, her body felt weak, and she was still experiencing shock from what had just happened. Turning herself to the corner, Kodachi regurgitated whatever she had left in her upset stomach, dry heaving for the most part, spitting up blood. Breathing shakily and closing her eyes tightly, Kodachi silently prayed to whatever was up there to make it all stop, to make it all go away. The only thing grounding her steadily to her dismal reality was the feeling of the ropes digging into her soft skin, her wrists and ankles glowing a soft, pink colour. It couldn't have been real - it just couldn't have; Kodachi knew this, even as she stared, sickened, at the mass of intestines and organs displayed on the matted ground, the entrails which were now extrails. 

Kurai Bara turned around, looking down at the pitiful young girl, bound on the floor. Her view of the brutally slaughtered man obscured, the Black Rose found her eyes locked with the deep red orbs of the woman before her. She had eyes like lava; all consuming, two raging seas that brought only death and brimstone, clamoring for their next hapless victim. So captivated with the ninja woman's stare was Kodachi that she didn't even notice the remaining insides of Akira, sticky with fresh blood, slowly sliding off Kurai's metal sickle as she came closer to the girl on the floor. Ever so much closer. Suddenly, the black haired murderer's face was at level gaze with Kodachi's frightened and captivated expression. Kurai smiled wickedly, her fangs protruding over her crimson painted lips.

"Poor Pretty," she breathed, her face coming closer to Kodachi's, "look what they did to you." Kodachi tried her best to move back as far as possible, realizing with a sinking feeling that she was right against a cold, metallic wall. She pressed herself against it as much as possible. It didn't help. Kurai reached out with her blood covered hand, wiping away a steadily growing tear from Kodachi's eye, leaving streaks of red on the teenager's pale skin. Kodachi inhaled sharply at the ninja woman's cold-as-death touch.

"Let me make you all better, Pretty." There was time for Kodachi's eyes to widen before it began.

Screams; horrible, soul-shattering screams that could drive any mind to insanity, echoed down the stark, cold and empty hallways of the Underground. Their despairing and hopeless tones bounced off the metal walls, reaching the ears of no one, yet calling out to anybody willing to listen, and save her. 

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


The cool grass under his bare feet felt startlingly nice, the blades poking out through his toes, massaging his skin with their cool, wet texture. Throughout the field of green, he observed large trees protruding from the ground, providing shade from the sun and a home for the various animals scattered around the Nerima vicinity. Children's playground equipment, long since abandoned by the kids for promises of video games and cartoons, sat in its brightly coloured glory; the swings were hardly bothered by the passing zephyr that blew through the park. All in all, it was a lovely and welcomed oasis amidst the desert that was housing projects, shops, traffic, and people.

Except, of course, for him. He sat on the bench, his right hand resting protectively on a small yet expensive looking instrument case, along with a larger, black gym bag. His left hand, devoid of any such luggage, was swung over the back of the wooden bench. Propped up beside him was, in contrast, a simple bokken, the once shiny lacquer on the hardwood worn off by time and constant use. The sun's light was slowly but surely diminishing; it was starting to hide its presence behind the distant skyline, decorating the sky with stunning pinks and blues, running together in the mural of the heavens stretched wide above his head. The boy continued to watch this spectacle before him, working away at the internal musings that plagued his mind, darkening the shade of grey that it was already. 

Tatewaki Kuno, aged 17, rising kendo star of Furinkan High, wished to whatever the hell was out there that everything would go back to normal. Although his definition of the term 'normal' was probably quite unlike most people's in the world, it was so much better than what it was right now. First, he found out he had this new, developing, potentially *lethal* power. Obviously this was causing him to feel sick all the time lately, and why he suddenly had these strange auras. Secondly, he met a woman with the same power as him who tried to help him by beating him senselessly. The last thing was definitely the worst though.

His sister was kidnaped by someone - or more than one someone - who left not only a gruesome mess in her bedroom, but a cryptic note written in, presumably, his sister's own blood. This frightened Kuno more deeply than anything he'd ever been afraid of before; he'd always been there to protect his little sister, even if they fought constantly. It was different when it was just him and his Kodachi; they would tease and get aggressive with each other, but they weren't looking to hurt one another terribly. Now she could be dead, and the last thing he had ever said to her was of most unkind origin. 

What good was he to her if he couldn't protect her when she needed it the most? His eyes hardening, Kuno glared angrily at the wooden sword to his left. It represented everything he had prided himself to have - strength, ferocity, and courage. It infuriated him so much that the bokken, sitting there, taunting him, reminding him that it was all worth nothing if he couldn't come through when those he loved needed him. Grabbing the wooden sword in his strong grip, Kuno, with surprising ease, snapped the bokken in two, throwing the halves away from him in the sea of grass, which swallowed them up. It registered somewhere in the back of his mind that the wooden sword, now laying in two pieces on the wet ground, was the bokken his father had given him, many years ago. 

Sighing and leaning back into the bench, Kuno managed to wrench his gaze from the remnants of his weapon in the grass to the fast darkening sky above him. Stars began to twinkle in and out of existence with each passing moment, yet the boy couldn't rightly concentrate on them alone. There was simply so much going through his head right now; he wanted, more than anything, to release all this stress and this worry that had built up inside. Usually this would involve an intense kendo workout, venting all his frustrations through what was essentially a large stick; however, it just didn't seem right this time, not to mention his wooden sword was broken. Physical burnout helped him to forget for a short time, but his troubles would come back to haunt him after a good night's rest. Something different was needed. 

Kuno opened up his instrument case.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


She wasn't what you would call the 'athletic' type; no, her younger sister more or less fit that description. Though her playing field of choice usually consisted of freshly sharpened wit and material things, a jog now and then couldn't be too bad for her health. While brainpower was valued, a killer body could certainly get one into higher and loftier positions; from there, control and blackmail could be easily exercised. This was what Nabiki Tendo wished to gain in the near future; however for now, she just wanted to clear her head. A place of quiet and solitude the Tendo homestead was not. 

Her heartbeats and breath fell into a continuous rhythm, bringing back a sense of balance and control to the middle Tendo daughter as she made her way down the sidewalk. It was chilly out, so she had taken her jacket with her; for this, Nabiki was glad. She had never much liked the cold. Nabiki watched her breath come out in puffs of water vapor in front of her, listening to the cyclic slaps of rubber against cement as she pressed on towards an invisible goal. 

The night was still as death; if Nabiki were of lower intelligence, she could've assumed that she was the last person alive on earth. Everything was hushed and quieted, even the illumination given off by the streetlights towering above her. This was probably why she could hear it so well, even from so far away.

It began as a slow, deep, note resounding through the area of Nerima that the girl was jogging through. It reverberated off the parked cars, the windows, the shop fronts, and the roads, telling a musical story of woe and pain. The euphony of stringed voices crept through the night, cloaked by a twilight haze of placidity, making its way to the ears of Nabiki Tendo. Although faint, the sound was unmistakably that of a violin. Curious, Nabiki slowed her run to a walk, closing her eyes, allowing the harmonious music to guide her through the streets.

To the brown haired teenager, it sounded almost like the pleading cry of a lost child. The notes, taking on a life of their own, began to speak of loneliness, of complete isolation from life itself. The song begged to have someone find it, to tell it that everything was alright. Perhaps it was the untapped maternal instinct in Nabiki that made her think that way, but she simply had to find the source of the lonesome ballad. Her eyes still closed, she allowed the musical voice of the instrument to guide her feet. It sounded almost as if it was calling out to her. . .

The logical side of her brain told her that this was extremely stupid, that music couldn't talk, and that all this nonsense would get her nowhere. For reasons that were unexplainable to her, she didn't care. She knew she should care about those things, and that she didn't know what she was getting herself into, and yet still she didn't desire to stop, turn around and go home. It mystified and scared her, somewhat. 

She opened her eyes. Before Nabiki knew it, her feet had taken her to what she recognized as the park near the local elementary school. Like the rest of the town, it looked abandoned; except for the silhouetted figure sitting on the bench, playing his sad melody, his face hidden in the shadows cast by the moonlight. From her angle, Nabiki could only see his back anyway. Cautiously and as quietly as she could, the Tendo girl stepped forward, crunching dead leaves and flattening wet grass under her shoes as she did so. She didn't want to interrupt such a haunting theme, yet she had to know who the musician was.

As if to answer her mental question, the man playing the violin stopped abruptly, mid-note. Disappointed that the song had ended, yet elated that she could finally discover who had such a capacity to make the violin truly sing, Nabiki found her breath catching in her throat. For the life of her, Nabiki couldn't figure out why she was suddenly so afraid to speak; she wasn't a shy person, yet now, the words died on her lips.

The man turned around, smokey grey eyes meeting chocolate brown ones.

"Kuno?" Nabiki breathed, staring in utter shock at the person sitting on the bench, looking at her. She found it extremely hard to believe that the Blue Blunder, of all people, was playing such an exquisitely deep and perfect melody on the violin that he was holding in his hands. The song was so beautiful and desperately melancholy - how could the swordsman be capable of such as a thing? She continued to stare at Kuno, still too surprised to say much. His eyes, locked with hers, would not let her out of her daze of silence; they were so sad and lonely, yet so handsome. . .

Nabiki shook her head once, to clear her thoughts. The Tendo girl decided that she had not thought what she had, indeed, just thought, thus her footing on the situation was regained. Trying to look as nonchalantly as possible and succeeding for the most part, Nabiki crossed her arms over her chest, wearing the mask of cool apathy on her face once more. Although she was now looking away, Nabiki could still feel Kuno's eyes on her, studying her. She felt unnerved.

"What are you doing out here, Kuno-baby?" Nabiki inquired, her voice no longer the breathy, surprised tone she had used before, but had solidified back into her normal style of speech. Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette watched what Kuno would do to respond, but being careful not to make eye contact.

"The same question could be asked of you," he replied, albeit melancholically. Saying this, he allowed his gaze to fall from her face to the faded and decayed wood that made up the bench he was currently residing on. There was a moment of silence.

"I suppose that it would too much to hope for that you came here out of concern for me," Kuno sighed, beginning to put his instrument away. Nabiki crossed her arms over her chest, looking more than a bit annoyed.

"I had no idea you were out here in the first place," she began, walking out from behind the bench, stopping directly in front of Kuno, "and even if I did, I doubt I would come here just for you. After all, it *is* just you." Kuno paused for a moment, his violin hovering over his opened instrument case; from what the Tendo girl could see, no emotions passed over his features. With a quiet sigh, Kuno returned to putting his violin away. 

"'Tis good to know that you are the same as always, Nabiki Tendo," he muttered, still not looking up, his voice apathetic. Nabiki cocked an eyebrow, looking at him strangely.

"What do you mean by that?" she inquired, staring the boy before her down, somewhat confused. The brown haired by gave a rather disgruntled 'hmph'.

"You figure it out, if you are so intelligent," he growled, crossing his arms, his eyes hardening and narrowing to cold slits. Nabiki felt about ready to smack him for that; how could he be so insensitive to her? She didn't even do anything.

Then again, the episode with Kuno in the hospital still left her a bit shaky, however she had some time to think it over. Kuno was always the temperamental type, and it didn't take much to anger him sometimes. He had gotten angry at her before; however, it was different in the school hospital room. Never had she seen Kuno so utterly seething with unadulterated rage at her for a slight that Nabiki couldn't even remember doing. His eyes had changed for those split seconds, Nabiki was sure of that, from his grey eyes to fiery orange. She knew she wasn't seeing things. However, if Kuno was going to be childish. . .

"Fine then, I'll leave. I have more important places to be anyway," Nabiki huffed, turning on her heel, her arms still folded against her chest; dirt and bits of gravel crunched under her running shoe as she did so, creating the only bit of noise other than their breathing in the oppressive silence of the night. She managed to take a few steps forward.

"Nabiki, wait," Kuno relented, evicting his breath harshly, allowing his back to slouch and relax somewhat. Turning around, Nabiki saw that the boy was still refusing to look at her; his gaze was set squarely on the ground. Upon further inspection, she saw what looked to be a broken wooden sword, swallowed up by both the grass on the ground and the velvety night.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to insult you," he said quietly, his voice surprisingly soft, "I have just had a rough day." Standing there, once again at a loss for words and feeling out of place, Nabiki gazed at the young man on the bench; though she knew of his wealth, he had the look of someone whose poverty had overwhelmed them. His hair was disheveled; he was still wearing his school uniform which looked to have seen better days, and that deep gash under his eye still trickled with blood. His posture spoke not of a refined family, nor of riches, but of a world-weary wanderer, with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and whatever dreams he managed to hold on to. 

With another great sigh, Tatewaki allowed his back to slouch against the rough boards of the bench, feeling the splintering wood sinking into his white shirt and, ultimately, his skin. Strained muscles rippled under his clothes as he shifted his position, consenting to the thought of physical reaction after a moment of mental deliberation. Yet still, Nabiki stood there. She wasn't quite sure why.

"Oh," she whispered intelligently. Her usually adept and cunningly flexible mind seemed unable to wrap itself around the current situation, for one reason or another. For once in her life, she didn't know what to do.

"Come, sit if it will make you more comfortable. Kami knows it did not help me, but it may suit one such as you, Nabiki Tendo," Kuno said, his baritone voice gliding on the passing zephyr of the night to Nabiki's ears, ensnaring her mind, snapping it back to conscious awareness of things other than her own internal musings. Blinking once, Nabiki decided to take the boy's advice and sit down beside him on the slightly unpleasant park bench.

Silence hung over both their heads for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime. Watching him with her peripheral vision, Nabiki could see that Kuno was in no mood for starting a conversation; while a part of her just wanted to get up, walk away, and forget about that babbling idiot, another, more demanding part, had the curiosity of a kitten. A personal philosophy of Nabiki's was that the more you know, the more they're under your thumb.

"So," Nabiki began, wringing her hands in her lap, feeling every inch the idiot. 'Why is it so hard to talk to him suddenly?' she mentally questioned, chancing a side glance at Tatewaki who, in turn, was side glancing at her. As if on cue and timed by a brilliant New York Broadway director, they quickly turned their heads away at the exact same moment their eyes met.

'You're acting like a stupid preteen. Come on, you're better than that!' Nabiki's inner voice chided, 'besides, it's just Kuno.' Mentally sighing, Nabiki turned to face Tatewaki once more, with the full intent of showing him who was in charge of this certain exchange, and that nobody, especially not some dumb rich kid, was going to one-up her. She realized she was being overly cruel. This had not stopped her before.

"Listen-!" she began, however, that was as far as she got. Whirling her head around with her pronounced statement in the intent of intimidating the boy and gaining the upper hand, her mouth and vocal chords ceased functioning when her eyes met those of the so labeled rich idiot.

His eyes looked so sad again. Those grey fountains of never-ending depth were devoid of the passion that he always carried with him; so easy to get lost in those eyes, even now, when they seemed so alone and. . . were they brimming with tears?

She felt the gentle pounding of her heart increase steadily, looking at Tatewaki silently as he tightly shut his eyes, turning away once more. It was obvious that, while he hoped to be shielded from her view, he was wiping furiously at his eyes.

"F-forgive me, Nabiki Tendo," he whispered, not daring to allow his voice to get any louder for fear of breaking down in an instant. For the life of him, Kuno couldn't understand why he was suddenly feeling so upset around Nabiki, of all people - for one thing, it was incredibly dangerous to let his emotions get out of control, especially around someone who couldn't adequately defend themselves. However, for the most part, it was personal pride; if he couldn't best her with intellect, he knew he could always best her physically. Sure, it was of little comfort, but at least he had something; now, he felt so fragile and pitiful. . . there was no way he could look at her now.

"Kuno? Are you alright?" she asked, knowing full well what a stupid question it was. Earlier in the day, he had been acting so strangely in the school's sick room, and now he was out all alone in the park at night, obviously on the verge of some sort of breakdown. Weighing the thoughts in her head and trying to regain the logic that had vanished the moment she had made contact with the bench, Nabiki's first explanation was that dementia ran in Kuno's family and now he was really beginning to feel it.

She mentally slapped herself for that one. Keeping her mouth shut and once again relegating herself only to the role of the watchful eye, Nabiki saw the kendoist quickly wipe away at his eyes, his back to hers once more. With a deep yet shaky sigh, Kuno's head fell into the grasp of his hands, elbows resting on his knees, back slouched. A breeze chilled them both to the bone. Shivering, Nabiki pulled her coat closer to herself.

"It's getting really cold out," she said quietly, trying her best to keep a conversation up for sanity's sake, "you should get going home." She frowned when she heard Kuno utter a mirthless laugh.

"Home," he sighed, "is a place that I do not wish to return to." Still resting one cheek on his left hand, Tatewaki ran his other fingers through a mess of mahogany hair, leveling his gaze with that of the moon, residing comfortably in the night sky. For the umpteenth and equally infuriating time, Nabiki was puzzled.

"Why not?" she inquired as softly as she could, although her usual hint of demand managed to worm its way back into her routine vocalization. Kuno turned his head only far enough to lock eyes with the shivering girl beside him.

"It is a long story," he assured Nabiki, his face looking much too tired for a boy of his age. Nabiki, of course, was not satisfied with this answer, but decided to leave it alone. For the time being.

"So you just planned to spend the night in the park?" she asked, incredulous. As she stared at him, Kuno turned his face back to meet that of the man on the moon.

"The park, a motel, anywhere that is not my house would do," he began, craning his head over to the gym back that sat beside him. He opened it quickly, rifling through its contents, looking none too pleased the entire time.

"Huh. Seems that this bench would be my best bet, seeing that I did not bring my wallet with me," he muttered, his tone melancholy and unsettled.

Now, on Nabiki's part in this exchange, she did something that she had not done since she was six years old. For whatever reason, for whatever unconscious motive, she didn't really know, however, she managed to do it. She spoke without thinking. 

"You could stay at my house!" the girl blurted out, once again beating the hell out of her brain inwardly for looking like she was beginning to care about him. Because she certainly didn't. Of course she didn't.

Kuno was intrigued, scared, and shocked, all at the same time. Was Nabiki Tendo. . . offering to help him, honest to goodness help *him* out of sheer generosity? A small shred of happiness registered in the boy's mind at the thought of somebody caring enough to help him.

"For a price, of course," Nabiki coughed out, adding the last sentence quickly. As fast as his happiness had been established, it was squashed with Nabiki's concluding words. He knew it was too good to be true; however, in his idiotically trusting fashion, he pushed those thoughts aside. Oh well. At least he wouldn't have to sleep like a homeless person tonight.

. . . like a person without a home or a family. . .

"Right, of course," he breathed, locking eyes with the brown haired girl, "for a price." Nabiki saw what had flashed in those stunning, event horizons of grey eyes.

It was the pain of rejection. Of loneliness. Of loss.

In her life, she had never seen eyes that had mirrored her own when her mother died.

  
  


~*~*~*~*

*bangs head on brick wall* Damn exams!! v_v Sorry that this took so frickin' long! It's June!! I thought this was gonna be done by the *beginning* of May! *sighs* I even cut the chapter in half so that I could upload it. For this I apologize, gomen nasai times infinity plus one.

I hope you manage to enjoy this small bit. I'm starting on Ch. 9 as soon as exams are finished. Bah. Science. Who needs it? Welp, R/R still. Brightens me day, me boyo.

~Chibikat

  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Nightmares

  
  


Disclaimer: Ownership - feh, who really cares about such a stupid thing like OWNING something? Mecasa sucasa, right? (I don't know Spanish, it's quite obvious) And didn't we learn in kindergarten to share things with one another? Well, think of Rumiko Takahashi SHARING her characters with me; except of course, I didn't really ask her for the Ranma people, so it could also be considered stealing. . .er, but what's in a word? I promise to play nice. Really I do. *forced smile*

  
  


Author's Notes: Yay, happy birthday to me! XD It's June 18th at this very moment, and I'm celebrating my 15th birthday by. . . writing fanfiction. . . my life has hit a new low. -_- (Damn you Hanakin and your handcuffs! DAMN YOU!) Naw, I'm kidding. It's late at night, and I have nothing else to do anyway. I'm all alone. . . there's no one here besiiiiiiide meeeeee. . . 

  
  


Ooh! I just got the 'Ranma ½: Digital Dojo' box set for my birthday, so that's a bit of inspiration. Yay me! ^_^ That, and 'Kate & Leopold'. I could just eat that Hugh Jackman up, prrowr! *sigh* Sexy sexy man. . .

  
  


*er-hem*

  
  


Indeed. On to relatively serious business.

  
  


Rating: Well, this chapter in itself isn't NC-17, however I'm leaving the fic's rating as it is, due to the graphic content of last chapter. At most, this chapter is an R for weapons, violence, and all that jazz.

  
  


Author's Other Notes that I Forgot to Include in the Author's Notes Above: Sectioning of different parts of this chapter, no da! ^-^;;

  
  


'. . .' indicates thought

//~*~// indicates the beginning/end of a dream sequence

*=*=* indicates the next scene of the story

  
  


Okie day? Ja, and now for something not-so-completely-different, the long awaited, long winded 9th episode of. . .

  
  


~*~

Pandora

~*~

  
  


It was not as if he had never been to the Tendo house before; being the current place of residence for both his Pigtailed Goddess and the equally lovely Akane Tendo, he had visited them before to their absolute. . .

Joy. Yes, that was it. Had to be. Why would they feel any other way? Tatewaki Kuno wasn't sure why he was doubting his obviously solid relationship with both his loves, however his mind seemed to wander to such a subject as he walked with the girl beside him. They both traveled in silence, neither quite wishing to start a conversation and open possible floodgates; they were scarcely friends, not close enough to confide in each other. 

It was for that reason Nabiki was wondering why in the name of Kami-sama she had invited him to stay at her house. Sure, perhaps pity was a factor; but she was Nabiki Tendo - she felt no such emotion for any man, woman, child, or barn animal with conspicuous-looking yellow bandanas. Pity was a sign of sensitivity, sensitivity was a sign of weakness, and weakness was a sign of a very bad businessperson. That was, simply put, the way of things. Nabiki strived to be one of the best people in the money making industry, and had considerable practice and experience. For the longest time, she had obeyed her mantra of 'cold hard heart, cold hard cash', and it served her well when it came to the art of monetary acquisition. Yet, still, there was a void. . .

"Nabiki Tendo?" Kuno asked, although his voice sounded farther away than that of a person just on her heels. Turning around with a rather irate expression, Nabiki hooked her arms on one another over her chest.

"What is it, Kuno?"

"Er, I believe that you passed the Tendo homestead." True to his word, the young man pointed to the building beside him and a good distance behind Nabiki, more specifically to a sign reading 'Tendo Dojo of Anything Goes Martial Arts', hanging cheerfully on the ashen wall. Feeling the sudden need to hit Tatewaki and simultaneously acknowledging the fact she was, indeed, related quite directly to her younger sister, Nabiki stifled this initial reaction and walked back to her house, calm and cool. With a haughty yet somehow sarcastic 'hmph', she breezed by Kuno, refusing to look at him. It was enough she invited him into her house; it didn't give him the right to start acting all precocious and narcissistic.

That nagging, logical part of her brain that Nabiki had managed to ignore, at least temporarily, pointedly noted that she was overreacting, and doing so would not allow her to have her cool apathy that she so craved and loathed. Finally allowing herself to fall back into the rational, analytical pillow of thought, Nabiki Tendo felt at home - both physically and mentally - for once that night. While announcing it aloud would be redundant in her mind, it was necessary for the others in the household to be aware of her presence. She was, after all, Nabiki Tendo.

"I'm home," she called out nonchalantly, listening to her voice seep through the paper walls and be absorbed by the wooden planks beneath her feet. The girl removed her shoes at the door, placing her sneakers on the mat next to her; Kuno, who had entered after her, followed in much the same suit, save declaring he was in the Tendo house. Kasumi Tendo, the labelled 'homemaker' of the family, walked from the kitchen to the hallway in front of the stairs, an ever-present smile plastered on her face.

"Welcome home, Nabiki!" she answered politely, her voice its usual tone of utter cheeriness. She held a ladle, splotched with parts of whatever meal they were having that night for dinner, near her dress. Despite the fact that the food on the large spoon was dark brown, not a trace of it was to be found on Kasumi's pristine, white apron. Yet another mystery of life. Kasumi's eyes caught the figure of the man behind Nabiki.

"Oh my, and you brought a friend! Please, do come in Tatewaki," she offered amiably, still smiling. Besides the obvious fact that she never fought, one of the things that stood Kasumi apart from the other inhabitants in Nerima was that she believed nobody had any enemies, rivals or opponents - only friends. It was a lovely stance on life, however it also lead some people to the belief that she was under the influence of some sort of brain nullifying drug. Others just assumed she was a naturally kind and caring woman.

"Thank you," Kuno responded in kind, bowing. Nabiki leaned against the wall behind her, crossing her arms.

"Kuno-baby's just gonna crash here for the night, is that okay?" she asked Kasumi in her casual manner, glancing at the rather disheveled and apathetic-looking boy behind her. The eldest Tendo daughter blinked once, before smiling in her oh-so-sweet way.

"I'm sure that would be fine. Thank you for telling me, so I could set an extra place at the dinner table for him," Kasumi noted, chipper tone withstanding. Kuno shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I am sorry Kasumi Tendo, but I must confess that I am not very hungry. I would only waste your delicious food," he replied quietly, looking down for the most part, only glancing up at the homemaker. She looked in a concerned manner at the younger man before her.

"Are you sure? Are you feeling alright?" Kasumi inquired in a very motherly manner, placing one hand daintily on her cheek. There was a short period of silence.

"I am sure, thank you for you concern," he replied, lifting his head, looking Kasumi in the eye. He wore what could be considered a smile, if it weren't so terribly strained and looked so out of place under his dull, grey eyes. Kasumi either ignored this fact, or missed it completely.

"Oh. Well then, please feel free to use our bath to. . ." she began, searching her mind and Kuno's body for a moment, ". . . freshen up." Kuno seemed a bit perplexed for a moment, however, after a short time in which his short-term memory had miraculously come to life, he remembered that he was looking significantly less than his best. Nabiki shifted her gaze back to Kuno's form, who standing a bit uncomfortably in front of the doorway, though at least trying to keep up an appearance now.

He had, for the first time that night, realized he looked more than a bit unkempt, which certainly did not befit a man of his stature - despite the fact he didn't feel rich today. How he felt didn't matter at the moment, though; he looked like a mess, and he shouldn't have. He never enjoyed looking filthy; well, nobody did, but especially not Tatewaki Kuno.

The remaining bits of silence left over from this exchange were quickly gobbled up by familiar sounds from the second level of the Tendo prefecture. There was a shout, a scream, something that sounded eerily like wood impacting on a head, another scream, and a door slamming. Emerging into view were two bickering teenagers, one with a Chinese style pigtail, the other wielding a dangerous looking mallet. Ah, the sweet sight of normalcy.

"RANMA, YOU IDIOT!" screamed the aforementioned wielder of the mallet, her oceanic blue eyes tinged with the familiar sight of anger. She swung her weapon, showing off her years of hard work in the field of pain. Combining temper tantrums with large, heavy objects was a mainstay in Akane Tendo's angle of attack, and it usually never failed. That is, unless, you were her fiancee.

"It ain't my fault you're a clumsy tomboy!" Ranma Saotome retorted smartly, confident in the fact that he was, indeed, crossing a line with Akane. Of course, this line had not only been crossed, it had been jumped upon, shoveled with dirt, set afire and, most likely, the site of a few pagan rituals that will not be spoken of here. It seemed to Ranma (and most people who knew the pair) that there was really no line with Akane - she simply *was*. This didn't change the fact that the blue haired girl with the thing of destruction in her hands was easily pissed off by the man who she was supposed to marry one day. She swivelled the mallet once more; much to her dismay, Ranma ducked, keeping his head safe from Akane's wrath - the same was not to be said for the wall that was, unluckily, directly behind him. It cracked and splintered under the tremendous power behind her swing.

"Ha, you're uncute, unsexy, and a bad shot to boot!" the gender-ambiguous martial artist taunted, laughing in his cruel-yet-good-natured way. Though his oxymoronical joviality stemmed from the fact he was winning this specific match, his feet decided at that particular time that balance wasn't in style anymore. His arms flew out beside him, flailing madly, trying to regain the Zen-like state of equilibrium that he usually managed to possess, however it could not stop him from leaning back just a smidgen too far. With all the grace and dignity of a fat man playing Twister, Ranma Saotome toppled down the wooden staircase, the so-labeled 'silent killer' by many a senior citizen and those with less-than-ample co-ordination. At the top of the stairs, Akane stood triumphantly, heaping praise on the Mallet Gods once more.

"Who's calling who clumsy now, you pervert?" she snorted, stepping down the stairs in a fashion far too daintily for someone carrying a weapon of her mallet's size. Akane leaned her weapon du jour against the side of the wall, not really wanting to carry it anymore, but in arm's reach lest Ranma should forget his manners again. The now dazed and slightly confused martial artist, sprawled gloriously at the feet of the stairs and his fiancee, muttered a few incomprehensible words before beginning the arduous task of getting up.

Having been wrapped up in her own little world again, the youngest of the Tendo clan failed to notice the people standing in the foyer, watching with bemusement, concern, and just a hint of surprise. Ranma was still trying to remember if the place he was in right now was Disneyland or not, the dizziness slowly starting to subside as he gazed around, just a tad woozy.

"Hey, Nabiki!" Akane greeted cheerfully, making the nearly bi-polar switch from enragement to utter cheerfulness. As she surveyed the entrance to her home, she found someone there that normally wasn't. She looked at him with some confusion.

"Kuno? What are you doing here?" Akane asked, a hint of contempt worming its way into her voice, her gaze fixed steadily on the boy in front of her. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noted that Kuno looked scruffier than usual; however her mind was severely set in the frame she used when normally dealing with the kendoist - annoyance. She awaited the familiar and tiresome speech that Kuno would spout next.

Tatewaki Kuno stood there, staring at Akane, something akin to confusion, perhaps even shock, showing on his face. It seemed that, at first, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes looked to be glazed, as if he wasn't all there; his head drooped down slightly, and still he made no sound. By this time, Ranma had accomplished the awesome feat of standing up and thinking straight.

"Uncute tomboy," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his head where a bump was merrily forming. Blinking a couple times and regaining his composure, Ranma realized, for the first time, that someone other than Akane was in the room with him. Still massaging the back of his sore head, he took a couple steps forward to stand beside his fiancee.

"Kuno, listen, I'm not really in the mood for fighting," the pigtailed martial artist mumbled, eyeing the kendoist oddly. He noticed that Kuno wasn't in his normal attacking stance - in fact, he didn't even have his bokken with him from the looks of it, not to mention he wasn't wearing his regular samurai outfit. Coupled with Kuno's exceedingly strange behaviour in the past couple of days, it lead Ranma to wonder exactly *why* Kuno was in the Tendo home, if not to declare war once again.

"Nor am I," Tatewaki replied distantly, still not looking up at either Ranma or Akane, "however, Nabiki Tendo has graciously offered for me to stay the night." Needless to say, both of the engaged duo were surprised. Tatewaki Kuno was a guy who was well off - no, that's an understatement, he was one of the richest men in all of Japan - and neither Akane or Ranma could fathom, for the life of them, why in all the rings of Hell Kuno would need to stay the night in the Tendo house, that was cramped as it was. 

"What?? Why? Nabiki, why?" Akane demanded, more shocked than angry for once in her life, turning to face her older sister, still calmly leaning against the door, her arms crossed. 

"Beats me," she replied conversationally, "but we all know Kuno-baby's not really the sharing type in this department." 

"He's paying you, isn't he," Akane said, more of a statement than a question.

"What else would motivate me?" Nabiki replied nonchalantly, waving her one hand in a dismissive manner. Akane sighed in a frustrated manner, stalking back up the stairs, opening her door and slamming it shut once more; Ranma assumed it was 'that-time-of-the-month', as all the other boys called it. What exactly happened once every month to girls was still beyond him, but finding the answer to that question wasn't important at the moment.

"Well, she seems happy," the middle Tendo daughter commented sarcastically, "not as much property damage as I would have thought." To this, Ranma snorted.

"Yeah, well, that violent maniac has still gotta tone down her temper a bit. Ain't my fault she's built like a brick, I was just tellin' her is all," the black haired boy asserted, crossing his arms. He studied Kuno, waiting for the anger to surface in the kendoist that a sentence demeaning Akane Tendo in any way would bring. Tatewaki lifted his head somewhat, looking at the staircase the short haired girl had just stalked up, then at Ranma, then back down again.

"I think I will go have that bath Kasumi Tendo offered," he said quietly, "where would it be located, Nabiki Tendo?" Ranma watched in, as was the style of the night, surprise, as Nabiki pointed up the stairs, her expression unreadable. Both noticed Kuno cringe slightly, but the sullen boy said nothing as he ascended the flight of stairs, disappearing as he turned on the upper hallway, heading towards the furo. 

Ranma shot a look at Nabiki that could have been considered speculative, if not for his eyebrows being knotted in confusion.

"Something really weird's going on," Ranma muttered, looking up at the wooden stairs, leaning against the wall behind him, his hands clasped behind his head. Nabiki sighed.

"That stunning Ranma perceptivity strikes again," Nabiki observed, walking over to the base of the staircase as well, standing opposite of the pigtailed boy, "still, I want to find out what's happening." The martial artist cocked one eyebrow.

"You almost sound concerned, Nabiki. That's a bit terrifying," Ranma bit off, glancing up at the stairs, then resting his gaze on the Tendo girl's face once more.

"When money's involved, I'm always concerned," she retorted, looking just a smidgen venomous, somewhat tainting her pretty features. Ranma shook his head.

"Always about money, isn't it?" 

"Better than something stupid, like revenge, or pride, hm?"

Both of the teenagers were silent, neither of them wanting much to look at each other. Ranma Saotome had always been uneasy around Nabiki, even when he had first met her. Damn her uncanny wit!

"Feh. I'm going off to the dojo to practice. If you feel the need to extort me or somethin', that's where I'll be," Ranma finally said, his words dripping with sarcasm. With that, the martial artist strode down the nearby hallway, confident in his righteousness. Watching him go, Nabiki clicked her tongue in aggravation.

Nabiki looked down at herself; she was still wearing her jogging clothes, and they were starting to feel uncomfortably warm. She gazed up the stairs, placing one foot on the first step. In order to get to her room, she would have to pass both the abode of her virulent little sister and the furo. 

Sighing in a resigned manner, she continued up the wooden stairs, listening as the old boards creaked under her weight. Looking down the entire time, somewhat lost in thought, Nabiki noticed a little splotch in the stairs that she knew wasn't there before. On a closer inspection, it looked like blood.

'Probably from when Ranma tripped down the stairs', Nabiki concluded, proceeding to the upstairs level of her home. However, as she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed tiny droplets of the same shade of red standing out against the wood on the floor. Following them with her gaze, she saw they lead a short trail to the door of the furo. She looked at the door, worry plastered on her features. 

'What's going on with you, Kuno-baby?'

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


He watched the steam waft up from the hot water, lazily following the tendrils of water vapor with his eyes. Experimentally, he touched the liquid in the bath with his fingers; the water felt to be a few degrees less than boiling, and on closer inspection of his fingers, Kuno found they had already turned an angry shade of red.

Perfect.

Tatewaki Kuno unbuttoned his school shirt, throwing it to the opposite end of the furo, allowing it to land in a heap in all its wrinkled glory. His undershirt came next, rolling it off of his upper body, and tossing it into the general vicinity of where his button-up shirt had settled. Already he could feel the beckoning heat of the bath, filling his head with promises of relaxation, cleanliness, and much needed warmth. It had been astonishingly chilly outside; to think, he was honestly going to sleep outside on a night like this, without any sort of equipment. . .

He continued with his train of thought as he discarded himself of the rest of his clothing. His pants, socks and underwear joined their brethren in the forgotten corner of the bathroom; slowly and deliberately, he allowed himself to sink into the steaming water. He sighed and closed his eyes, the water encompassing his body up to his neck, allowing his tense muscles to relax in the bathtub's soothing embrace. It felt so wonderfully therapeutic; for the first time, he realized how tired he was.

It was a full ten seconds before Kuno drifted off into a deep sleep.

~*~

There was darkness. 

It enshrouded him, covered him completely, almost to the point of suffocation. It was the kind of dark that light simply could not penetrate, no matter how valiantly it tried. The blackness, sweeping over his body, its touch cold and clammy, felt like death itself. In an almost vain sense of reasoning, Tatewaki thought that perhaps it was.

Kuno blearily made his way forward (forward, backward, how could he rightly tell?), the confusing and nauseating gloom seeping through his very being, making his flesh rise with goose bumps from the cold. He blinked once, surveying the empty dark that surrounded him; it was severely depressing and lonely, not to mention confusing. It was just a desert of nothingness. . .

Then the deathly night began to take shape. 

Before his eyes, the darkness began to melt, running downwards like some sort of macabre candle, the wax liquefying from the flame that was Kuno's presence. It ran in thick, sticky gobs, running atop itself, the blackness lumping together at the base of where Tatewaki was standing; and yet, despite the fact it had melted, the dark did not let up. 

And from the pile of dark at his feet, creation rose. Swirling upwards at impossible speeds, the black gloom, almost liquid in its state, took shapes of things that were disturbingly normal; a desk, a vanity, a lamp, hell, it even decided to throw some chairs into the mix. Out they spiraled, sloshing together as the black, aqueous shapes took their correct places in the void around him that suddenly didn't seem so much like a void, but a room. . .

The black pieces of furniture set themselves; despite the fact they were most obviously liquid, they defied any and all laws of science and stayed in the shape they had chosen. Once landing in their chosen spot, the obsidian pieces rippled, as if debating whether the form they have decided on was correct or not, and then set themselves completely; whether it be wood, or metal, or glass. In a few minutes, black, grotesque walls of running liquid had erected around Tatewaki, trapping him completely within the deranged room. The melting ceased for a moment; the walls shimmered, and then became completely solid.

Breathing heavily, looking all around him, Kuno realized, with a sinking feeling, he knew exactly where he was.

This was Kodachi's bedroom; however, it was still completely intact, unlike when he had last saw it, where everything was bro-

With a resounding CRACK!, the opaque desk before him suddenly split down the middle, dark wood splintering out, almost as if an invisible blade had cut through it. Gasping in shock and taking a step back, he saw the chair topple over, pushed by an unseen force, smashing to the ground. The bed, with a terrible ripping sound, exploded in a flurry of feathers - dripping, rather than floating - to its torn surface; in front of him, the large window smashed into millions of tiny pieces, shards of glass flying out at him. Kuno brought his arms up in front of his face to protect him from the barrage of window fragments that assaulted his form, biting into his forearms, searing his skin as they flew past.

After a moment, Tatewaki allowed his arms to slowly drop back to his sides, being cautious in case something else sharp decided to randomly explode. The places where the glass had cut him were bleeding freely; trickles of blood made unique patterns on his skin as they flowed downwards, dripping on the dark carpet of the room, shadowed in darkness. Faint streaks of moonlight made their way through the destroyed window, illuminating. . .

. . . a large pool of blood. Kuno swallowed dryly, stepping backwards without really thinking about it. The chaos of destruction had retired for the chaos of complete silence that was slowly seeping through his mind, driving him insane. After all that, everything was just suddenly so still, so quiet. As he looked around the now destroyed bedroom, he realized something wet was touching his feet. Biting his lip, he looked down. 

Blood exuded through his toes, overlapping his feet, running in currents under him; he could feel its soft caress on his soles, staining them a dark crimson colour as it continued to course around him. With a shuddering breath and a strangled cry, Kuno attempted to back away, get out of the small, morbid river his feet were drenched in; he only managed to fall backwards, right onto his back. He sat up as quickly as he could, madly shuffling backwards from the impending rivulets of blood; he scurried back until he felt himself hit the wall, the door to his left. In a panicked manner, his hands, slick from blood after falling into it, managed to grasp the doorhandle.

Pulling himself up, blood dripping off the kendo outfit he normally wore, he rattled the doorknob. It was locked. Cursing loudly, Kuno threw his weight on the door - still, it wouldn't budge. He could feel the thick, red liquid beginning to touch at the heels of his feet, causing a chill to run up his spine. Breathing shakily, pounding on the door, he felt the blood lap at his feet, washing up on the shore of misery; looking down, Kuno saw the blood run through the crack separating the door from the ground. 

He was frightened as hell, but he knew there was no way out. Whatever was here, he was going to have to face; he turned around, not knowing what to expect. Swallowing dryly and vaguely noticing it was storming outside, Tatewaki saw what the source of the river of blood was.

Bathed in the ghostly rays of moonlight, laying atop the shards of window, was his sister, Kodachi. Her eyes stared, open and unblinking, at nothing; a trickle of blood ran down her mouth, and her hair was fanned out around her, a grotesque mix of raven locks and fast drying blood. There were numerous cuts all over her body; the white nightgown she was wearing was soaked vermilion, beginning to turn an ugly shade of brown. Stab wounds oozed with blood still flowing out of her body; her arm, outstretched, almost as if crying for help, was laced with contusions and cuts, trickling in a fashion that looked like a disturbing imitation of a spider's web.

Lightning flashed, illuminating her features even more so, the flash of light revealing her entire body to be covered in blood. And still she stared, her eyes blank and dead, now just brown pools of nothingness on her face. Tatewaki froze in his place, trembling, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He was dimly aware of the tears, but only because they blurred his vision of the horrible sight laid out before him on her bed of glass, like some nauseous platter. 

"K. . . K. . ." he managed to stutter, breathing heavily, blood still encompassing his feet, never ending its eddying course. Through the thick liquid, Kuno's feet shuffled almost mechanically, permeating the area with a sickly squishing sound for each step he took towards the dead body of his little sister. It joyfully replaced the sound of silence that had once damned the room; he concentrated on the sound, listening as if his life depended on it. 

Step. Squish. Step. Squish. Step. Squi-

He couldn't hold it in any longer.

"KODACHI!!" he cried out, his baritone voice cracking at the end; it reverberated around the empty room, which now, for some reason, seemed to be so much bigger, so much more foreboding. Thunder boomed, shaking the old room slightly; lightning followed soon after, playing cruelly with the shadows on the girl's ashen skin. He stumbled onwards, tears coursing down his cheeks, eventually finding himself collapsed on his knees before her; although his fingers began to outstretch, he desperately feared touching her, dreading she could fall apart.

His sobs echoed in the barren room, reverberating inside, reaching only his own ears once more. He muttered his sister's name under his breath over and over, trying to make himself believe that none of this was happening. Glass crunched under his knees, some shards biting into his skin through the material of his hakama, ripping it. His own cuts still dribbled with blood; it ebbed and flowed, joining with the stream of life force that was his sister's, the smell overpowering.

Kuno closed his eyes, trying to block everything out; if he couldn't see it, it wasn't there, and if it wasn't there, it wasn't real, and if it wasn't real, then Kodachi wasn't dead. No. She couldn't be, there was absolutely no way that she was laying there before him bleeding on the glass looking up at him with those glazed eyes and oh gods she's really dead she's dead Kodachi's dead oh gods oh gods oh gods. . .

His panicked mind forced him to turn away from the horrible sight, his hands trembling worse than before. Trying desperately to calm himself somewhat, Kuno found that it was really quite the Herculean effort; his breaths remained choked and stuttered, and he had to fold his arms into themselves across his chest to nearly stop them from shaking. Tears still coursed out of his eyes, dripping down his face and neck; he looked up to the ceiling, trying to find a point of nothingness to lose himself in.

As he stared upwards, trying to convince himself that the blood covering him really wasn't there, he thought he heard a sound. It was very soft and faint; it would be almost soothing, if not for the fact that it made him feel utterly disturbed. Very slowly, it began to grow louder; it sounded almost like a song or a chant, being sung by a voice that could have belonged to a child. It resounded through the room, cutting through the silence, despite the fact it was still almost imperceptible.

It felt like someone whispering in his ear, and yet they were a million miles away, watching him, observing the mess around his form bloodied by his sister's wounds. Was it one, or a hundred of them, Kuno couldn't tell for sure; he drooped his head slowly, attempting to find the sound's source. He whirled him; no one was there, only the shadows from the lightning strikes kept him company.

Not even Kodachi's corpse.

The volume of the chanting increased as lightning struck again, brightening the dark room for split seconds at a time; swivelling his body around, his heartbeat increasing, Kuno could swear he saw faces around him. Ghostly, evil faces; and with their child-like voices, they sang.

'All is still in your rest

May your sleep be serenely blessed

The winds whistle over the wild. . .'

His heart's beating ever-rising, Kuno looked wildly about himself, trying to trace the sound of where the voices were taunting him from. Their vocalizations were so empty, yet so eerily like the voice of a child that it made Kuno's arm and neck hairs stand on end. In the back of his mind, he noted the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

'Lu-lla-by

Sleep on, my child,

Lu-lla-by

Sleep on, my child. . .'

They were coming closer, he just knew it; it became increasingly colder, and the loudness of their voices augmented, yet still he saw nothing. Thunder roared outside, a fierce wind beginning to pick up as well; it blew in through the open window, creating a small storm of tiny, blood-soaked glass shards that flew around his body, scratching and biting into his skin. His own blood joined in the torrential windstorm, whirling around him; despite this, those damned voices kept singing.

'So lu-lla-by,

Sleep on, my child. . .'

The children's voices, lacking all the tones of innocence and joy that came with being a child, pressed ever closer, giving Tatewaki the maddening sensation of claustrophobia. The windstorm surrounding him picked up, throwing already wrecked pieces of furniture akimbo, crashing into the walls and breaking, if not already completely destroyed. His ears rung from the huge crash of thunder that followed, beginning to feel dizziness set firmly into his brain.

'May angel gleams. . .'

Suddenly, as if it were some sort of magic verse all in itself, he could see the people singing. If one were to quickly glance at them, taking in only their small forms, they would assume that those surrounding Tatewaki were children. However, the similarities to the neonates would stop abruptly, like a driver pounding on the brakes to avoid an inescapable accident. 

The "children's" skin were grey, and scarred in many places. Criss-crosses of scars, some bleeding, some beginning to heal, were made apparent on their sleeveless arms; the red drips stood out terribly against their ungodly pale and dead skin. The clothing they wore was reminiscent of the kimonos and yukatas that were donned in the days of yore, when wars ravaged Japan, and honour ruled all that the inhabitants did and said. They were torn and dirty, blood soaking through in many places on many of the children; regardless, the most disturbing features about the children were their eyes.

They had none. 

Where their eyes were supposed to be, only gaping, black holes loomed back; like two abysses, swallowing Kuno's soul in their depths. The ghost-like kids pressed in on Tatewaki even more, their dead, empty voices resounding through the broken room. Simultaneously, they drew breath to complete their eery song.

'FILL YOUR DREAMS!'

Screeching the last verse of their warped lullaby, the children rushed at Kuno; their tiny, bloodied hands reached out for him, as their bodies floated off the ground. Letting out only a shaky gasp, Kuno found himself to be paralyzed where he stood; looking down frantically, he saw his feet to be buried in the sea of blood that now reached his ankles, forcing him to remain where he stood. Pulling his strong legs as much as he could, even using his arms to help, Kuno found that they were, indeed, stuck.

Their hands fell forward, and their mouths opened; they emitted cries like banshees, each unearthly child slowly merging into one another as they continued forward to Kuno's defenseless form. Twisting and turning, their morbid features, slowly began to shift into each other, at first becoming a formless lump. Like water rippling over the surface of a lake, the grey mass' skin swirled, changing its form, different colours pervading its essence. It sectioned off into two separate entities; almost as if someone was carving them from the feet up, the grey mounds began to take shape.

With disgusting, slurping sounds, the grey formed itself into what could be human legs, then a torso, slowly inching its way towards creating two people; as the grey swarms continued to play the artist, Kuno watched, entranced and more than slightly nauseated. As the twining, twisting ripples finished off with the heads, Kuno noted that they looked like the sort of blockish, generic people children would draw.

It was then the grey melted off. He stared, wide-eyed, at the two familiar women before him.

"Pigtailed Girl. . . Akane Tendo. . .?" Both said girls stared back at Kuno; the Pigtailed Girl had her arms crossed over her chest now; her oceanic blue eyes bore into Kuno's cloudy ones, a scowl tugging at her lips. Akane's hands rested on her hips, also looking at Kuno with a neutral expression on her face.

Before he could ask either of them what they were doing there, he felt a pulling sensation on his ankles; snapping his head down, he beheld the sickening sight of hands - bloody hands - grabbing his feet. The hands seemed not just to be covered in blood, but actually *made* from blood; they reached upwards, gripping on his leg, slowly pulling him down into the sea of grisly crimson below. He frantically reached down; much to his horror, he found that his hands passed directly through the liquid, yet still they did not cease their grappling on his body.

His frightened gaze went back to meet the stony ones of both the lovely Akane Tendo and the vibrant Pigtailed Girl; though at the moment, neither looked too lovely or vibrant. In fact, the Pigtailed Girl seemed to be out and out scowling at him, her normally beautiful visage twisted in an expression of contempt. Akane, on the other hand, had something akin to a smirk on her face; it certainly wasn't a nice smirk either, more like a knowing sneer.

"Akane Tendo, Pigtailed Girl, help me!" Kuno cried out, extending his blood-covered hand in their direction, his eyes wide and pleading. He took in shaky gasps of breath, feeling the ever-present pulling and sinking of his legs into the river of blood; in a few moments, his knees would be completely submerged. He leaned forward as much as he could, watching the droplets of blood fall from his fingers, splashing back into the sea of liquid under him, sucking him down. 

Akane Tendo and The Pigtailed Girl saw this, and they laughed. Cruelly, their voices echoed throughout the room, their malicious tones embedding themselves into Kuno's mind, shock apparent on his face. The two women continued to watch him sink into the ghastly pool, the blood now past his knees, encompassing his thighs; casually, Akane took a step forward.

"Pathetic," she mumbled, observing the boy before her, "asking a girl for help like that." Stepping up beside her, the Pigtailed Girl 'hmph'ed, her normally warm eyes cold and hard as a slab of concrete. Despite this, Kuno still reached out for them; they would save him, wouldn't they? 

"Please. . . h-help me. . ." he begged brokenly, his fingers outstretched and trembling, feeling a wave of dizziness overtake him for a moment. The blood hands continued to claw at him, by now having reached his hips, which were close to being immersed; the Pigtailed Girl reached out with her own dainty hand, and hope swelled in Tatewaki.

"Of course I'll help you, Kuno," she said, now smiling, her beautiful voice renewing Kuno's faith in the love that he had for her. Her arm extended, her fingers brushing Kuno's blood-encrusted ones. Before Kuno could offer her his gratitude, her 'smile' changed to something of a sadistic grin; with a swift motion, she struck Kuno's hand away violently. She looked at him square in the eyes.

"I'll help you to die. It would be an improvement," the red-haired girl bit off callously, the bitter tones in her voice freezing Kuno's blood in his veins. His pigtailed goddess, his vibrant beauty, his venus, sashayed back to her place beside Akane Tendo, her leer still plastered onto her perfect features. Akane smiled herself, watching Kuno slowly sink into the pool of blood, thin tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Face it. We hate you. Everybody does," Akane explained, as if talking to a small child, "and frankly, you would be doing us all a favour by just offing yourself right here and now. So much less noise pollution."

Kuno's grey eyes, flooding with tears, tried to respond in defense of himself; yet, Akane Tendo was saying this to him. She was always right, as far as things about him were concerned. Always. Was. . . this time no exception?

"Ak-k-kane, no. . .!"

"Just die and make us all happy. Do something right for a change." With that, she and the Pigtailed Girl turned their backs on Tatewaki Kuno, who was still crying their names out, clinging to the desperate hope that they would save him, that they cared enough to rescue him from his death. They continued to walk, almost as if they couldn't - chose not to - hear his pleas.

His chest was now wholly sunk into the disturbing sea of blood, the terrible, godforsaken hands scraping at his shoulders, trying to bring his still-outstretched arm down into the morbid fate awaiting him. Kuno refused this, now attempting to grab at the air, his heart racing, becoming more panicked than ever. He screamed Akane's and the Pigtailed Girl's names over and over again; the bloody fingers hooked into his mouth, the taste of blood filling his mouth, making him feel utterly sick. 

Despite this, he still tried to call for them, his screams reduced to a hoarse, croaking sound, his voice nearly completely gone. The hands scratched at his cheeks, grabbing onto them painfully, one hand still curled into his mouth; they pulled his head back, and Kuno could feel this tips of his ears touching the blood.

Tatewaki continued his useless rasps as he felt his head begin to submerge; his free arm, still jutting out from the pool of red liquid, thrashed wildly, his fingers curling and uncurling worthlessly, realizing that his cheeks were now halfway covered in blood. He continued to do this, even when his tear-filled, cobalt eyes were forced into the abyss of lifeblood, stinging them, saturating his vision. His last, lingering screams were silenced as his mouth and nose were pulled under, the sick, nauseating blood filling his windpipe. Kuno's arm flailed more sporadically as he tried to draw in breath, but only succeeding in supplying his lungs with relentless, merciless blood. 

Suffocation and its associated panic made Tatewaki try desperately to break the surface above him, to spit out the disgusting liquid and breathe. His lungs felt like they were going to explode soon; the hands still grabbed at his arm, and Kuno felt darkness begin to overtake his body. He knew it; his arm slowly began to cease movement, knowing that he was drowning. . . drowning. . .

  
  


~*~

  
  


. . . drowning. . . DROWNING!!

Kuno's eyes snapped open, his mouth opening in a scream under the surface of the water, soundless bubbles exploding to the surface of the warm water. Sitting up frantically, Kuno emerged from the bath's water, coughing madly, spitting up the water that he had breathed in. At first, he only managed to take in short, gasping breaths between his coughing fits, managing to get a hold on precious, precious oxygen. His hands shook as his breathing slowly became more regulated, water dripping from his soaked bangs into his eyes.

'Another dream. It was another damned dream,' he thought, the gravelly coughs becoming less and less frequent as time passed. The boy lifted his hands up to his face, watching them tremble against his own will; looking around, he saw that there were no disturbing children, corpses, or blood. It was just the Tendo's furo, and that alone, nothing grotesque or unearthly. He closed his eyes, running his shaky hand through his wet hair.

"Just another dream," he muttered, "and I nearly killed myself in th-the bathtub. What. . . wh-what a way to go." He laughed bitterly at this, and allowed his arm to drop back into the now lukewarm water. Looking down, he saw blood swirling from cuts in his forearms, swirling out of the lacerations, mixing with the water.

With morbid curiosity, he lifted his forearms closer to his eyes, inspecting them. They were clean, slightly deep cuts, straight across the muscle, blood trickling down from them. Thinking back (though not really wanting) to his upsetting nightmare, he remembered being marred by the small pieces of glass in such a way presented to him now.

'Like the last time.'

  
  


*=*=*

  
  


The scent of dinner wafted up from the kitchen to Nabiki's nose as she strolled out of her room, closing the door behind her as she did. She hadn't eaten much during the day, and her stomach was clamoring for sustenance; fear not, she thought, for soon it was coming. Kasumi's cooking was just the thing to put her mind and other parts of her body at ease from today's eccentric weirdness.

She padded, almost silently, down the wooden hallway, her blue, wool slippers flip-flopping on her feet as she did so. Nabiki walked slowly, at her own pace; no need to rush right now, she was tired, and frankly, couldn't be bothered with the whole power walking deal. 

As she made her way down the hallway, she realized, with some sort of dull interest, that she was currently passing by the furo, to which Kuno was in presently. Sighing quietly, she continued walking past the room, willing herself not to think about why Kuno-baby was acting the way he was; it wasn't really her business first off, and despite the fact that something not being her business had not stopped her in the past before, she found no reason to go prying into Kuno's state of mind. It was obvious she wasn't going to get much money out of the whole deal, so really it was a waste of time.

Just as she had cleared the door to the bathroom, Nabiki heard the sound of a horrible fit of coughing, obviously coming from inside the furo. This made her stop for a moment; it had to be Kuno, no one else was in the area she knew of. Ranma was most likely still in the dojo, Genma and her dad were playing their never-ending game of shogi, Kasumi was preparing dinner, and Akane was all the way at the other end of the house in her room, still fuming. The coughing continued, though it seemed to be getting a bit better.

Nabiki turned around, her mind sparked with inquisitiveness. It certainly couldn't hurt to take an elementary interest in the situation, could it? Of course not, what a silly question. She approached the door; Nabiki was about to knock on it when, much to her surprise and convenience, she found the door to be open, just a crack. 

'He wouldn't let me in if I knocked anyway, this is simply more productive,' she reasoned, crouching down, touching the wood of the door with her hand. Biting her lip and pushing it open a little further, Nabiki's brown eyes peering through the crevice between the wood and the threshold. What she beheld made her blush.

Kuno, who was previously soaking in the bath, stood up, though slowly. Water dripped from his disarrayed, mahogany hair, down his cheeks and neck, continuing down his well-muscled upper body. The droplets glinted in the dim light of the lamps, suspended from the roof of the washroom, illuminating his body as he continued his way out of the tub. Nabiki's eyes widened as he stood at full height; she was seeing the part of the male anatomy that she was obviously not supposed to see until her wedding night.

She turned her head away, feeling a bit flustered, her face hot. Most of her mind regretted this move, for as she turned back, she saw that Kuno had grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Disappointed (and shocked at this) yet a bit relieved at the same time (which came as an even greater shock), Nabiki resumed her spying, her cheeks still beet red.

Appreciating the eye candy and telling herself that she was spying on him for educational purposes only, the brown haired girl watched her subject intently as he crossed the room, bending down, picking up a wrinkled heap of clothing. She noted that, while he acted like an infuriating idiot most of the time, Tatewaki Kuno was a complete babe.

He walked back, towards the entrance; for a short moment, Nabiki feared that perhaps he had seen her and the jig was up, however he seemed to be quite preoccupied with his thoughts. Kuno was close enough to the door for Nabiki to see that his grey eyes were slightly clouded over, and very distant. Though his eyes were very interesting, Nabiki couldn't help her eyes from wandering downward; past his neck and shoulders, to his sculpted pectorals, his abs, his. . .

. . . scars?

Blinking once to clear her vision, the middle Tendo daughter looked again at his chest area; sure enough, standing out terribly against his skin, reddened by the heat, were white, thin scars. They were almost everywhere, now that she was really looking; mostly on her lower chest, his upper arms, and all over his abdomen and legs.

'What the. . .?' she wondered intelligently, observing the tiny, ashen traces of cuts and gashes. She continued to watch as Kuno lifted up his right forearm, looking at it; from Nabiki's angle, she also had a clear view of his arm. 

Blood trickled down it; there were three straight, deep cuts, all of them bleeding profusely down his arm, dripping onto the ground below him. Nabiki gasped involuntarily; obviously, this was enough to snap Kuno out of whatever thoughts he was asphyxiating in.

His head turned to the direction of the door; he saw that it was open, yet even when craning his neck, he saw nobody. Biting his lip, he walked over, closing the door completely.

Nabiki, who had been hiding against the wall beside the crack of the door after making a sound, let out a short sigh of relief. He hadn't seen her, Nabiki was sure of this. There was no way he could prove it was her he saw. However, at the moment, the teenager's desire to know exactly what the hell was going on with her Kuno-baby overrode the small sense of accomplishment she got from peeking in on him when he didn't know it.

For now, she pushed it to the back of her mind, filing it away to be retrieved for later use. Right now, dinner sounded about good.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


OH MY FREAKIN' GOD THAT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE!! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't kill me, gomen gomen gomen gomen!! _;; I started in June, ended in August. It is unforgivable. v_v

*sighs* Anyway, there you go. At least it was extra disturbing, and there was near-pointless fanservice included!! And there was much rejoicing. *yaay*

You know what else requires rejoicing? Reviewing. Because when you review, you're too cool. Too cool for school.

Ja ne, and until the next gruesome time we meet. =D

~Chibikat 


	10. Falsities

  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: Bwa ha ha ha! As secret leader of the special revitalizational organization known simply as ACROSS, it is quite natural that I would own everything in this fanfic, including all the characters! Yes, soon the world shall be rebuilt in my vision and it shall be perfect and we shall laugh and dance and sing and generally look very attractive whilst doing it and. . . waaaaaait a minute, I'm not Ilpalazzo. . . well gee, in comes my schizophrenia again. Oh hello nice men in white coats! Tut tut, you're slacking off, took you 15 minutes to track me down this time! Escaping has become so easy as of late; oh my, was that an injection you just put into my ar-gaaah. . . *thud*

  
  


Rating: R. This chapter has been closed captioned for the thinking impaired; parental discretion is strongly advised due to its violent content. In other words, if you get screwed in the head permanently because of my writings, it ain't my fault. Nyah.

  
  


Author's Notes: Okily dokily, according to Mr. Calendar the date is Friday, August 23rd. So this is when I start the fanfic. Fanfic starting now. Gotcha. I shall try to make the chapter come out in LESS than two months (eh heh heh. . .), but I'm not gonna promise anything. School is starting soon, but my first semester schedule is relatively easy, so I may be able to get some chapter stuff done. The story is really beginning to pick up now, so I'll probably find it easier to write too. ^.^

Awright then, thank you guys for reviewing! For those who have already reviewed, but only once (if you're still reading the story, that is. o_O), I really do love if people review every chapter. I am very much a review whore. ^_~ 

  
  


So blah. Now that my li'l introductions are done, please feel free to continue with the readingness of the story that is widely known as. . .

  
  


~*~

Pandora

~*~

  
  
  
  


"Yakitori!" 

'Ah, so that's what I was smelling upstairs,' Nabiki thought as she made her way into the dining room, faintly amused by Ranma's need to exclaim the food's name before consuming it. She supposed it was a standard action for the boy; he was obviously a disenchanted youth, all he had left besides his dashing good looks and hordes of women chasing after him were the names of various foodstuffs. Well, actually no, he had his inane obsession with martial arts, but that just made Ranma's main focus in life look ever so much more idiotic. He probably hadn't even waited for the others to sit down to begin stuffing his face.

She paused in the doorway for a moment; true to her thoughts, there Ranma sat, his cheeks puffed in a not too dissimilar manner of how chipmunks look after cramming assorted nuts into their mouth for storage. Speckles of food littered his lips; the word "napkin" was obviously an extremely foreign concept to the young man, and Nabiki pondered exactly why in the name of Allah, Buddha and God so many girls liked him. Sure he was a looker, and yes, a six-pack could get one far in this day and age, but his manners and personality could make his handsome appeal completely null and void. 

Besides, she had already seen Ranma naked; Kuno had him beat in a lot of ways in that category. 

She startled herself with this particular comparison. Nabiki pretended her mind did not conjure up that particular thought and, with a slight shake of her head, she kneeled before the table in her normal spot beside Kasumi. The steaming plate of food before her provided adequate distraction and looked tremendously inviting; Kasumi had a gift when it came to food preparation, and the eldest Tendo daughter certainly spared no expense when it came to the art of dinner.

"Are you sure Tatewaki won't be joining us?" Kasumi asked Nabiki, her hand at her cheek once more, "there is quite a bit of extra food, and I'm sure he must be hungry." 

"I'm sure he's fine, Kasumi, don't worry," Nabiki replied nonchalantly, picking up her chopsticks, taking off a piece of chicken from the bamboo skewer it was cooked on. 

"Besides, those harpies over there'll clean out the extra food before he got a chance anyway," the brunette concluded, motioning with her chopsticked chicken over to where Ranma and his father, Genma, had not come up for a breather from inhaling their meal. Kasumi chuckled in a good-natured manner; although, her being Kasumi, there would be no other conceivable way for her to chuckle. The maternal girl seemed content with her younger sister's answer, and so she herself began to eat, although in a much more dignified way. However, comparing eating habits of your every day average Joe to that of the Saotome's could make a three-year-old child look good, so really, it wasn't saying much.

A few moments later, a slightly less irate Akane descended the stairs, entering the eating vicinity. Nabiki lazily noticed that her younger sister was cradling that black pig in her arms that she adored so much; what was his name, P-Chan? Yes, she concluded, if memory served its purpose, it was. The pig looked worse for wear; tired, circles under his eyes, generally happy to be carried around by Akane and fed by her. 

Akane took her usual spot between Nabiki and her father; she was pointedly avoiding Ranma, however since it was such a normal occurrence, no one really cared anyhow. Well, that is, except for Ranma, who noticed that his fiancee was toting the small barn animal with the unmistakable bandana around its neck. He glared at both Akane and P-Chan, pausing his food-shoveling for a short period of time.

"Well, hello Mr. P," he said with a hint of disdain, propping his head up with his hand, his elbow resting contentedly on the table. With is other hand, he fiddled with his food with his chopsticks, for lack of anything else for his opposite appendage to do; he continued to stare at both his fiancee and the black piglet she held, said girl uttering soft cooing sounds to the bundle of black in her hands. P-Chan responded with pleased little squeals, especially when Akane ran her fingertips over his sensitive belly, tickling him, issuing from him short 'bwee'ing sounds that sounded strangely like laughter. 

From what Nabiki could tell, the display made Ranma more than a tad disgusted. What Ranma ever had against Akane's pet piglet was completely beyond her, however Nabiki never believed Ranma to have the stablest of all psyches, so she wasn't too nonplused by his behaviour. Sighing, she turned her attention away from the two, where an argument was sure to start up.

"Stupid pig. Why d'you always carry him around whenever he shows up?"

"Because P-Chan is kind, sweet, and absolutely adorable, unlike *some* idiots I know."

"You're saying that a pig is more desirable than me??"

"I'm just stating the facts, you stupid pervert."

'Right on the nosey' the middle Tendo girl thought, mentally patting herself on the back for a premonition well-done. This in itself really wasn't a very big deal, seeing that putting Ranma and Akane in the same room will likely result in having the two at each other's throats after a short period of time. Despite this, Nabiki still felt she should at least commend herself somewhat, the timing really was impeccable. 

Predictably enough, the small feud between the engaged teenagers ended with Akane somehow physically harming Ranma, and that was that. After the pigtailed martial artist recovered, muttered incomprehensible words under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'macho tomboy', a temporary truce, of sorts, was soundlessly communicated. Akane was busy with feeding and fussing over her dear P-Chan, and Ranma resorted to simply glaring with hatred at the tiny pig. Eventually, though, hunger won the young martial artist over, and that plate of yakitori was just so inviting. . . 

There were a few moments of silence, save the slurping, gulping, all around cacophonous noises that the Saotomes were creating whilst partaking in the meal known as dinner. For some reason, the noises seemed to drive into Nabiki's brain like a jackhammer, annoying her to no end - a distraction would certainly be nice and welcome. Even Akane and Ranma's miniature war was more entertaining than this.

"Daddy, I'm going to turn on the T.V., alright?" Nabiki informed her father, who had just sat down at his place at the head of the table. He had won his game of shogi with Genma today, so spirits (and blood alcohol level) were high in the Tendo patriarch. Smiling kindly, Soun Tendo turned to his daughter.

"Of course Nabiki, whatever makes my little girl happy!" he assented, brushing a stray piece of long, black hair behind his ear. Nabiki simply rolled her eyes at her father's rather jovial state of mind; her entire family could be so over-emotional, and it became aggravating after a while. After a couple moments of searching, Nabiki found the remote control laying haphazardly close to the nearby couch; she flicked the television on, which displayed for Nabiki and all present the picture of two rather good-looking people in an embrace.

"Shinji. . ."

"Yes, Amiko?"

"I'm. . . I'm carrying your brother's child!"

Cheesy music leapt from the speakers as the camera focused on the male, or Shinji, as he was called in the program, attempting to zero in on his over-dramatic expression of shock. The scene faded to black and was soon replaced for a commercial endeavoring to sell cat food.

"Aw, it's a rerun," Nabiki lamented, disappointed that the newest episode of 'The Loved and the Lovelorn' had not made its tacky debut as of yet. In this particular episode, Amiko Sashiki, fiancé of Shinji Kinatori, confessed to sleeping with and, consequently, being pregnant with the baby of, Shinji's brother Tome. However, little does Amiko know that Shinji knew of this, but was pretending not to so that he could look innocent when he fooled around with his busty American secretary from work, Chalandra. Now, this all came together in a neat little package when Shinji's father, Hanagata, was discovered not only to be the father of both Tome and Shinji, but Amiko as well, so the marriage would be null and void anyway. Besides, Nabiki always thought Amiko would be so much better off with that hunky construction worker Koshi, despite the fact that he had a terminal illness and was promised to that evil, scheming Minako, at birth.

Every woman is entitled to at least one soap opera, Nabiki figured. 

Sighing resignedly, but determined to find *something* good on T.V., Nabiki flipped through the channels at a pace slow enough to digest at least a bit of information from each station. Her findings displeased her; a couple reality shows with concepts a two-year-old could readily think of, an exposé on a washed up Norwegian movie star (she was surprised that Norwegian movie stars lasted long enough to become washed up), a new shoûjo anime about Super Beautiful Gorgeous Pretty Beauty whatsherface to make girls think that anorexia is the cool way to fight evil, and some other shows not even worth mentioning. 

" - so I've chosen to vote Makoto out of the moderately-sized penthouse apartment - "

" - and that's when I realized that it wasn't about acting, it was about the money and selling out - "

" - GEM POWER! TRANSFORM ME INTO SUPER BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS PRE - "

" - it gets rid of unwanted acne AND facial hair! - "

" - dn't have bothered to carve 'Aaah!' if he died while writing it - "

" - more on that at eleven. Tragedy struck the small prefecture of Nerima early this morning, when police received a phone call, concerning what was later to be deemed a brutal case of assault and kidnaping. Kodachi Kuno, aged 16, was victim in this attack; police reports say that the kidnaper forced their way inside her room at approximately 2:20 a.m., savagely beat her, and abducted the girl, managing to destroy her bedroom in the process."

Now *this* caught Nabiki's eye. Managing to snap herself out of the shock that struck her for a moment, Nabiki turned back to the shenanigans taking place behind her; Akane and Ranma had called their silent truce to an end and were once again exchanging tiresome verbal insults with each other (not to mention P-Chan was trying to take a sizable chunk out of Ranma's arm), Genma was taking this opportunity to steal his son's food, Nabiki's own father was simply delighting in how well his daughter and his best friend's son were getting along, and Kasumi was currently out of the room, most likely cleaning the kitchen. What was presenting itself on T.V. was sincerely more important than all of this put together.

"Hey guys!" Nabiki called out, attempting to grab her family's attention. Of course, this did not happen; the youngest Tendo daughter and her ever-loving fiancee were having an all out, oral, battle royale, and their voices were reaching decibels not yet recorded by mankind, effectively drowning out her own voice. The short-haired girl tried to shout again, however Akane and Ranma's arguing voices still managed to make her own vocalizations disappear within waves of anger that sparkled between the two.

She really didn't want to resort to this, but. . .

Taking what was left of the pork bun on her plate, she chucked it at Ranma's head. True to her aim, the half-eaten confection impacted against the boy's head, severing him from the train of insults on a runaway course, trundling through his mind. Blinking once and turning to face the person who would dare try to assault him with a pastry, Ranma was more than surprised to see Nabiki sitting in the direction from whence the bun had flown, looking annoyed.

"Nabiki? What the heck was THAT fo-"

"Watch the T.V., trust me on this one."

Giving Nabiki a look that could be considered odd, the boy swivelled his head, his eyes meeting the television screen. Flashing before him were images of what seemed to be a room in complete shambles; furniture was broken, even completely shattered in some areas, and most disturbingly of all, splatters of blood littered the area. 

Akane, taking a cue from Ranma, turned also to see what Nabiki was talking about, as did the other members of the Saotome and Tendo clans. 

"Obviously there was a struggle here; she fought the attacker off as best she could, Kami bless her," a police officer stated, his face ragged, with an expression on his face conveying the fact that he had seen things like this far too often in his career. Everyone seated inside the dining area watched this in silence.

Quiet notwithstanding, those around the dinner table didn't hear the soft pad of bare feet on wood slowly come to a halt in the entryway to the dining room; he placed a hand on the wooden frame of the sliding door, which was already open. He watched, engrossed, with a morbid sense of sickness welling up in the pit of his stomach.

"The blood spilled was caused by a bladed weapon of some sort; with the amount of blood and the way the puddles are positioned, there's no way a gun could've done this. Whoever the kidnaper was, they knew what they were doing too," the officer continued, "because we've yet to find any evidence that could incriminate someone - no fingerprints, no hairs, no nothing. Hell, there wasn't even a coherent ransom note. It doesn't make sense; why kidnap a girl this rich, and not be in it for the money?"

The scene cut abruptly from the hardened cop to a female reporter, standing on what was later concluded to be the front lawn of the house, some feet away from the commotion going on behind her. Her brown hair, bunched in curls at her shoulders, were tousled by the wind blowing outside, swaying along with it the branches of the large trees that overshadowed all the people in the picture on-screen. Behind the rather well-dressed woman, police were congregating near the entrance to the home, behind a barrier of 'POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS' tape that stretched about the entrance. The reporter spoke.

"Police have yet to confirm the motives of this crime, as no ransom note has been found at the present time. Constable Iwara, leading the investigation, said that with no evidence, no leads, and no witnesses, the most brutal case of kidnaping ever recorded in the history of the Nerima prefecture will be a tough one to crack. Currently, attempts to notify family members of this crisis have failed; however we here at Channel 25 News would like to offer our condolences and sincere hope that Kodachi Kuno will be recovered safely. Updates on this case will be aired as the investigation continues. This is Michiru Ayasugi, reporting for Channel 25 News."

The scene once again switched, this time from the live broadcast to that of the news anchors, who began to report on what tomorrow's weather would bring. 

For the first time in her life, Nabiki was stunned into speechlessness. Apparently, her family and the Saotomes were too; in fact, not even Akane's pet pig was making a sound. They sat in shocked quietness, the only movement being made by Nabiki to switch the television off. 

"Gods," Akane whispered, more shocked than anything else by the transgressions viewed on the T.V., her eyes staring at nothing in particular. She unconsciously tightened her hold on P-Chan, who made a bwee-ing sound so soft it was barely audible.

"Who could do such a thing?" gentle Kasumi asked, her voice much quieter than usual, and slightly choked. Her hands were wringing the apron she perpetually wore, clenching and unclenching in a show of nervous shock; Soun tried to calm her somewhat, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kasumi was a rather fragile creature when it came to hard-hitting matters such as these, and if there was one thing that nobody wanted to see, it was someone as good-natured and loving as Kasumi Tendo cry.

Nabiki, meanwhile, was lost in thought, looking at those surrounding her in the room, each person in various states of shock. Akane was absently scratching behind P-Chan's ears, biting her lip; her fiancee was looking down, fiddling with the material of his pants, contemplating something. Glancing slightly to her left, she saw her father consoling Kasumi; both were holding it together remarkably well, considering Soun Tendo's ability to overreact to situations, and Kasumi Tendo's amazing capability to feel empathy for anything. She continued her visual sweep of the room; Genma Saotome looked stoic, as he always did in these types of situations, with his arms crossed over his chest, gazing forward to some unseen point on the wall. Kuno, standing in the doorway, looked rather pale and drawn, which was really to be. . .

. . . wait, Kuno?

Nabiki stared at Kuno, who didn't seem to notice this; his grey eyes were resting on the television screen, which now showed nothing but a void of black. She observed small rivulets of water dripped from his bangs, plastered to his forehead, his hair wet from the bath he just had; his hand gripped the wooden side of the entrance to the eating vicinity, tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. Swallowing so her unbecomingly dry throat could regain its moisture, Nabiki Tendo bit her lip in indecision for a moment, before deciding to open her mouth.

"Kuno-baby?" she said quietly, her voice slightly above a whisper. Slowly, though perhaps not deliberately, the boy's gaze shifted from that of the empty T.V. to the eyes of the girl who said his name. Their eyes locked for a moment, concerned brown with surprisingly clear grey ones; his pools of silver translated to Nabiki more clearly than any of his previous ramblings, speeches, or rants had.

She found it quite amazing, to see such unblemished fear in someone's eyes. She continued to watch as the boy opened his mouth, as if to speak; it closed almost as soon as his lips parted, words dying on his tongue. By this time, everyone else currently residing in the Tendo residence had taken notice of the stricken-looking young man darkening their doorway. 

His cloudy eyes scanned the room slowly, unwittingly drinking in each detail; he realized, with no surprise, that he was currently the centre of attention for all those seated around the dinner table, his tall form dwarfing the seated families. Everyone remained silent.

"I. . ." Kuno managed to croak out, his breathing becoming a tad shallower. He bit his lip, looking down. In a swift movement, he turned around, beginning to walk away; everyone in the house could hear the resonating sound of his bare feet slapping against the wooded floors. Silence reigned once more.

Nabiki, fidgeting on her kneeling pillow, found the sound of the nothingness to be quite irksome for some reason. She was just as confused as everyone else, which was certainly a rarity in most situations - due to this fact, she knew she had to remedy it somehow. The only person who could possibly know any answer as to what was going on would be the one person who'd just padded away.

The middle Tendo daughter rose to her feet, mumbling something to her family about 'getting some sense out of him'. Nobody questioned her as to why.

  
  


=*=*=*=

  
  
  
  


The Tendo Dojo was not a very large house; ergo the ease in which Nabiki found the man that she was looking for. After a quick search in the foyer, she rounded about to the porch in the backyard, which could be a fairly quiet for those wishing to enjoy peace and solitude for scant few moments. Silently opening the sliding paper door, she peeked her head out; there he was, leaning on the wooden railing, gazing intently at the koi pond. A fish jumped out of it, the droplets of water sparkling in the scattered rays of moonlight that illuminated both the grass and the boy, ghosting over his features. The pale iridescence seemed to suit the rather glum mood that he was in. 

Of course, he had good reason to be in such a state of mind.

Nabiki listened to her footsteps creak on the old wood of the deck, despite the fact she was treading relatively lightly. She continued towards Kuno, whose back was turned to her; she covered the distance between them quickly, resting her arms on the guardrail, turning her head to face him. His profile was apathetic, save for his eyes, which were terribly morose. She could clearly see the moon reflect in his pools of grey.

"Kuno-baby, are you alright?" she asked, berating herself immediately afterwards. 'Gee, of course he's alright, just look at how frigging peachy he is.' 

The only reaction Kuno made to Nabiki's question was a slight shift in posture, his back slouching a little more, his gaze never breaking with that of the entrancing moon. Nabiki took the time to look at it for a moment; it hung, bright against cloak of night that had encompassed them. Stars twinkled and danced around it, forever in a cosmic waltz; encircling the lunar object was a ring of yellowish-orange, creating an almost intoxicating glow.

"I should have. . ." he murmured, his voice much softer than usual, flowing through the velvety night, swallowed up by the abyss of blackness that purveyed the town of Nerima. Nabiki's attention quickly focused back entirely on Kuno.

"I should have been there. She would not be gone if I was," he stated, still continuing to stare at the large sphere of rock that hung in the earth's orbit, his voice continuing to be infuriatingly mellifluous. Though she knew he was only uttering words from what was, undoubtedly, an inner soliloquy, Nabiki knew exactly whom he was speaking of. It disturbed her how much Kuno made it sound like she was dead.

"Kuno-baby," she began, honestly meaning to say something after the nickname she had so proudly given him many years back. However, so captivated was Nabiki by the torrent of emotions that played across her classmate's face, she allowed the words to be stillborn upon her lips. 

Anger came first.

"I am such an idiot, to have allowed this to happen!" he exclaimed, though his voice was still relatively hushed. He threw his hands up, gesticulating perfectly his frustration. 

Then came confusion.

"Why would somebody do this? I have not enemies I know of that would do such a thing, and if it were for money, surely they would have left detailed instructions," he managed to say, all in one breath. He removed his frame from the railing, and nervously began to pace around.

Then came sadness.

"Kodachi, my only, little, beautiful sister, how could someone do such a thing to you?" His pacing remained slow, his tones low and even. He continued to step, but in silence; after a few moments, his pacing eventually slowed to a complete halt in front of Nabiki. He turned to her.

. . . then came fear.

"What. . . what if they have. . .?" he asked quietly, his voice now rather small and frightened, his eyes wide and imploring. 

At this moment in time, Nabiki was faced with something of a predicament. While she herself was one who didn't show the entire spectrum of emotion that a human being was capable of, the majority of those around her managed to, somehow. She was used to dealing with only certain emotions though; confusion, which could be easily manipulated to gain profit, was one. However, never was she confronted with a situation so serious, or so vexing, for that matter. Though it was, ipso facto, quite easy to feel sympathy for Kuno, Nabiki always had found it rather frustrating to express her feelings adequately. Indifference worked for her, and well at that; at this point in time, she had no desire to change it.

However, Nabiki condemned her apathy as well. It was obvious that Tatewaki needed somebody to say it was going to be alright; how the hell was *she* supposed to do it? He could go bug Akane, or his 'pigtailed girl', for all she cared.

'But I was the one to follow him out here,' her conscience reminded her, the nagging thought like an annoying, stubborn brat of a child that clung to her to fulfill its insecure needs. Dammit, she knew it wasn't going to leave her alone, either. Sighing in resignation to her fate, she looked down a bit, scratching at the wood on the handrail. She felt it collect under her fingernails; Nabiki flicked the particles of the stuff out, as her scraping of it wouldn't cease. She continued her tiny mantra of raking the hardwood for a bit before answering.

"Kuno-baby, I'm sure she's alright. She's a good fighter, so I'm sure she's fine."

Gods, the words sounded worse coming out of her mouth than they did in her head. This was exactly why she couldn't keep a boyfriend for very long; get past the physical part, and she was at a loss for things to do and say. Tatewaki turned his head slightly, looking at her oddly.

"Nabiki Tendo, as appreciative as I am that you are attempting to console me, your words are hollow, therefore meaningless," he replied, his flowery vocabulary seeming to be quite fitting to counter Nabiki's short, clipped responses. Despite the fact Nabiki's expression never changed, his words stung, just a little bit. Well, maybe she *was* bullshitting a little, but it was for his own good. He certainly didn't need to hear her say 'Oh yeah, I agree completely, no chance of survival for her, let's start the funeral preparations just for some fucking fun'.

The Tendo girl summed up all her thoughts on his response in a deft sigh. 

"I'm just saying you shouldn't think the worst. You're always jumping to conclusions, this time's no different," the girl stated.

"No," he breathed out, vapour puffing from his mouth, "it *is* different." Kuno walked back to his original place on the deck, leaning once more on the wooden support rail, however looking at Nabiki this time. 

"When I went up to her room, there was blood everywhere. Believe me when I say that I am not embellishing this - blood covered *everything*," he began, his voice steady enough, "and the mattress of her bed was completely destroyed. It too was. . . w-was stained red." He swallowed heavily, tearing his gaze away from Nabiki's face back to the sea of green that was the Tendo's backyard. 

"The worst part was that I was not even there to be able to protect her," he whispered, his head hanging. Though concerned for the boy, Nabiki was also curious.

"Then where were you, Kuno-baby? The news reporter said that it happened in the early hours of the morning," she inquired uncharacteristically softly. Nabiki saw Kuno visibly flinch.

"It. . . it would be hard to explain to you, Nabiki Tendo. All that matters is that I was not there when Kodachi needed me the most," he stated, his hands trembling a bit.

"Gods, she m-must have been screaming terribly. If I would have been there, I w-would have heard her. . . cries f-for help. . ." Kuno's voice, which had been becoming progressively more choked and soft, died on his last few words. He turned his head from Nabiki's view, his breath beginning to hitch; his back quivered somewhat, and it was obvious that he was trying to hide the fact that he was becoming more emotional than he wanted. Nabiki, watching this, felt a rather harsh tug on her heartstrings; as such, she did the only thing she could really think of at the moment. Placing her comparatively small hand on Kuno's back, she rubbed it in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

"Hey. . . Kuno-baby, it's alright, just calm down," she said quietly, her hand still stroking up on down on the material of Kuno's yukata. In a stunning turn of events, Nabiki's understated actions had a pacifying effect on the wound-up kendoist; his breathing slowly began to even out as he took in deep lungfulls of the crisp, autumn air. Kuno rested the side of his head against the wooden support beam, looking at Nabiki out of the corner of his eye.

"Nabiki, it is not alright," he explained softly, moonlight glittering on the unshed tears in his eyes, "it. . . it just is not alright." To escape the girl's own prodding brown orbs, he closed his eyelids; he was rather disheartened to find a droplet escape from its prison, slowly trickling down his cheek.

Her mind reeled for a moment, scrabbling for a foothold in the, as of now, smooth and slippery rock face known as logic. Wringing her hands together, she found herself entranced by the boy before her. For everything that he had said and done in the past, and for all his stubborn, macho, arrogant, idiotic masquerading, he was just suddenly so. . .

. . . exposed. No emotional shield was presented to her this time; no sort of delusional tirade, no barriers. With a start, Nabiki realized that this wasn't some sort of an act or overly-dramatic show. This was a window into his true self. This recognition nearly bowled her over completely. Again, her mind grappled with the words in her syntax, trying to force her tongue around them in order to say something that would make this right, that would hammer sense into all of this.

However, something in the back of her head managed to kick at the jumble of logic until it began to bleed empathy. The cascading lifeblood of pathos, rather than poise, seeped through the crevices in her mind, filling in the gaps where logic simply could not permeate. This time, instead of trying to manipulate, control, and fix, she found herself wanting to just be there for him. It scared and, in an odd way, excited her, this feeling of enigma. 

Warily stepping forward, she reached out with her left hand, placing it on Kuno's shoulder. At her touch, he opened his glistening eyes, immediately locking them with Nabiki's. Biting her lip, her hand slid behind Kuno's back, smoothing over the fabric of his yukata. With her hand pressed against the boy's back, her right arm encompassed his waist; she had only slight hesitance when she began to pull him upwards.

Nabiki was surprised, not entirely unpleasantly, when Kuno's strong arms wrapped around her own body, accepting the hug she had cautiously offered. She felt his body sink onto hers, and again she found herself amazed by the amount of trust Tatewaki had for her. 

They stayed that way for what seemed to be an eternity, with the lonely moon watching over her uncharacteristic show of tenderness, and his foreign display of vulnerability.

  
  


=*=*=*=

  
  


It was good to be able to spar with another skilled martial artist after such a dry spell of seeming inactivity. Tonight, Ranma had only counted on practicing his katas; however, since P-Chan showed up, a kettle of hot water later and he was exercising his moves in a veritable blur with his opponent. The two boys exchanged blows, both of them looking to be about evenly matched; however, if one were to look closer, or were to have a vast knowledge in all that was martial arts, they would see that while the pigtailed boy was faster, his adversary had more force behind his moves. Of course, anyone sub-expert in the ways of the Art would only be able to see distorted shapes of red, black and yellow zipping across the dojo floor.

After a few more minutes of such attack and defense, the sparring match began to slowly die down. The blur of colours started to take comprehensible shape, individual limbs and assorted body parts became visible, and suddenly, you could distinguish the two boys from each other. They said nothing, the only sounds to be heard in the wooden dojo being their slightly laboured breathing; for now, nothing really needed to be said. Communication between the two boys through punches and kicks was as natural as the spoken word, if not more descriptive on both their parts. 

As the plateaus of battle energy slowly descended and leveled out, Ranma Saotome and Ryoga Hibiki both paced a bit restlessly around the room; they both still had enough enthusiasm to walk and jog a bit, however they were both sparring like there was no tomorrow. Even for both their high levels of endurance, it was something of a tough workout.

Then again, everything just seemed so much heavier today.

Managing to catch his breath, Ranma walked over to the open door of the dojo, stepping outside into the refreshingly cool, nearly wintry air. Cold zephyrs met heated skin, biting in something of a rejuvenating manner; he expelled a cacophonous breath, watching the water vapour from his mouth swirl around his face before disappearing. The boy closed his eyes, amazed by the fact that he could listen to himself breathe and be quite amused.

He felt footsteps approaching his still form, his eyes remaining steadfastly closed. The old wood of the dojo porch creaked under the influence of the new weight, whining under the second boy's step. Ryoga walked over to the railing, leaning on it, eyes wandering over the grounds of the place that he often found himself calling home. The pair bathed in the eerily strong glow of the moon, no words coming to their lips.

After a few moments, Ranma opened his indigo eyes, resting on the form of the only man he ever seriously considered his rival. Ryoga's head turned slightly, the profile of his face now visible to Ranma; his mahogany eyes were sad and melancholy, weighed down by something. Ranma could guess what it was; Ryoga Hibiki had the ability to feel sorry for just about anything walking the earth, except for a certain pigtailed adversary. Even then, there were times when he and Ryoga seemed to understand each other's troubles somewhat; usually it didn't last, and ended with Ryoga proclaiming his trademarked "Prepare to die, Saotome!" line, or perhaps a slight variation on it. 

However, none of that mattered right now. What they had both seen on the television was certainly disturbing; while neither of the boys were close to Kodachi, or even liked her very much, to have something like that happen to a person you knew could really shake one up. It didn't help matters that Kuno was skulking somewhere in the Tendo abode.

Ranma temporarily tore his gaze away from Ryoga's face to stare at his shoes, which were much less distracting than the lost boy's eyes. What bothered Ranma the most was that Kodachi wasn't the helpless maiden that she usually schemed to be in order to win over her object of affection; the pigtailed boy had fought Kodachi in his girl form in a martial arts rhythmic gymnastics competition before, and it took him everything he had to beat her. It was an understatement to say that she was skilled. Whoever had kidnaped her was not only skilled, but ruthless - a dangerous combination, if there ever was one.

Sighing deeply, the black-haired martial artist took a few steps forward, eventually to stand beside Ryoga. The night air was carried to them on a soft breeze, wrapping around the two boys like a chilly security blanket, tousling their hair. Trees swayed gently; the faint rustling sound it created acted as something of an understated background song, making a comfortable lull. Still, the boys remained quiet.

"So," Ranma began, his voice cutting through the thick of the silence like a hot knife through butter, "did you actually manage to find your way here, or was it dumb luck again?" Ryoga, on his part, scowled at the boy beside him.

"None of your business," he responded sharply, his tone as edgy as usual. Ranma smirked at this.

"Was it because of Akane, pig boy?" he taunted, knowing he'd dig a reaction up from his rival. As he predicted, Ryoga's face turned a fetching shade of red, turning his head away from Ranma's form quickly.

"I said it's none of your damn business, Ranma!" the lost boy shouted before biting his lip to forcefully quiet himself, one fang protruding over his mouth. Ranma grinned in a knowing fashion, happy that normality had been established. The quiet was really beginning to upset him.

"Alright, fine, I'll leave it alone. Geeze, you have the funniest hissy fits, Ryoga," the pigtailed martial artist remarked, watching Ryoga intently as he fumed.

"Ranmaaaa-!"

"Hey, I said I'd leave it alone! Honestly!"

Instead of lashing out at the young man with the red Chinese shirt as usual, Ryoga contented himself with expelling a discordant huff of objection. At this moment, he really didn't feel like getting in another petty battle; he had just finished sparring with the guy anyway, so it was inherently pointless.

"Fine. Like I care, stupid," Ryoga lamented in a low voice, quieted by thoughts that concerned more than just insults to throw towards the pigtailed boy. Ranma, for all his stunning moments of ignorance, picked up on this fairly quickly. Swallowing audibly to signal an end to the verbal taunts that had not even begun, the cursed boy looked at his surroundings. They seemed quiet, but there was no place of solitude like the roof of the Tendo home.

"Hey P-Chan, follow me," he uttered, elbowing Ryoga lightly in the arm. After a second's hesitation, Ranma leapt like a gazelle onto the wood of the railing in front of him, then equally as quickly to the nearby rooftop. He waited there, and not long after, the familiar figure of Ryoga Hibiki sprung up to land neatly on the shingles of the roof, taking a few steps to stand beside Ranma.

"I thought you said you were going to leave it alone, Ranma," Ryoga muttered gruffly, sitting down on the miraculously comfortable rooftop. Confused, Ranma took a seat beside him.

"Whaddya mean, piggy?" he asked, tilting his head. This elicited a growl from Ryoga.

"The insults, idiot!" he exclaimed, becoming angry once more. This was not a hard feat for the perpetually lost martial artist, however.

"*Now* who's being insulting, bacon butt?" Ranma quipped, greatly enjoying the reactions he was milking from Ryoga. In spite of this, a small voice at the back of his mind kept nagging him, telling him to stop acting childish. While they usually exchanged derogatory comments with each other that ended with everybody kung-fu fighting (and making references to tacky 70's songs, apparently), this was a completely different matter. Ranma honestly needed to just *talk* with Ryoga this time, not degrade or fight. 

"Ranma, you jerk! If you just called me up here to make fun of me, so help me I'll punch you so hard that you'll have to eat through a straw for a month!" Ryoga threatened. The rather disturbing thing was that Ryoga could probably do that to anybody just by lightly tapping their jaw. Ranma thanked the gods that he wasn't just 'anybody'. 

Gritting his teeth together, Ranma forced down the slew of abusive words that were attempting to burst out of Ranma's mouth. For once in his life, Ranma didn't want to have to deal with foot-in-mouth disease.

"Okay, okay, sorry Ryoga," Ranma mumbled, sighing once more, "really, I need to talk to ya." Ryoga eyed the boy suspiciously, not quite believing him. Trust was something that did not come easily to the lost boy, especially when it involved a certain chick-magnet of a martial artist. After a few seconds of intense scrutiny by Ryoga's wary eyes, Ranma was relieved when he saw the bandana'd boy relax a bit.

"Alright. Ryoga, you saw what I saw on the T.V., am I right?" Ranma inquired, resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his bent knees. Ryoga puffed out a quiet breath, watching it billow around like a cloud in front of his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, I did," the lost boy began, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down, "how could somebody do something like that?" Ranma clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"I dunno; man, they gotta have been pretty damn heartless. Kodachi may not have been my favourite person to hang around, but *nobody* deserves something like that happening to them," he stated, looking up at the night sky in thought.

"Whoever did it had to have been pretty skilled to leave no evidence, but get the job so. . . so brutally done," Ryoga eked out.

"That's what really worries me. I mean, the cop even said that it was done with a sword or somethin'. Judging by what he said, to have been able to sneak into Kodachi's room undetected and be able to do that much damage to her has to be pretty good in martial arts," Ranma explained.

"It still doesn't make sense, though. Why just that without a motive, or something?" Ryoga asked quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists. Ryoga himself didn't know Kodachi terribly well, but he did know that she could take care of herself quite aptly in a fight. Putting that aside, though, she was still a woman. Whatever sick bastard could hurt a woman like that deserved to have their face re-arranged, the lost boy surmised.

"I don't know. What I *do* know is that, whoever this guy is, he's really dangerous, and needs to be dealt with. I mean, if they have no problem hurting a girl like that, who knows what the hell else he could do?" the pigtailed martial artist lamented, feeling a bit frustrated with the whole situation. The last thing he wanted was for anybody else to get hurt.

Then there was the whole matter with Kuno, which was confusing as it was. He was acting so bloody weird; granted, with something like that happening to his sister, some strangeness was alright. However, what Ranma had seen in that empty classroom the other day, and his skin being burning hot. . . he had to be connected with what happened to Kodachi somehow. The unusual events coincided much too neatly for them to be separate.

'Wait a minute. Last night, when I bumped into Kuno on the street, he had that scar under his eye, and. . . and he was covered in blood. The cop on the T.V. said that Kodachi had put up a fight. . . gods, he couldn't have! He's acting way too upset for that to be right. Or is it just acting? G-gods, would he be psycho enough to do that to his own *sister*?'

Ryoga, who had noticed Ranma's rather lengthy period of silence, cleared his throat. Snapped out of his thoughts, the pigtailed boy shook his head, his revelation more than a bit unsettling. 

"Ranma, what is it?" Ryoga asked, knotting his eyebrows in somewhat of a distressed way. The boy beside him looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Ryoga, I think. . . I think Kuno did it," Ranma said quietly, more or less speaking his thoughts aloud, rather than just addressing Ryoga. If the lost boy wasn't confused before, he certainly was now.

"Wait, isn't that Kuno guy Kodachi's brother?" Ranma nodded. "What the hell are you talking about, why would he do that to his own sister, for Kami's sake?"

"No, you don't understand! He's been acting really weird lately; I mean, he's had these strange auras, and he's just been more of a looney than usual." Before Ryoga had any chance to tell Ranma that of course the poor boy would be acting differently, his sister was just kidnaped, Ranma silenced the lost boy by raising his hand in front of Ryoga's face.

"Last night, Akane kicked me outta the house for some stupid thing I did. So I was wandering around, and I just happened to run right into Kuno; who, get this, was covered in *blood*," Ranma finished dramatically, looking at Ryoga square in the eye. The pigtailed martial artist saw Ryoga's chestnut eyes widen slightly.

"Covered in blood?" Ryoga repeated, his mouth agape. Ranma nodded once, before continuing.

"He was acting even weirder then, too. Ryoga, it makes sense! Why else would he be drenched in blood? The only cut I saw on him was under his eye, and the officer on T.V. even said that she put up a fight!" 

Silence loomed once more, as Ranma's ludicrous explanation suddenly seemed the exact opposite of ludicrous.

"Gods. . . Ranma, I really don't wanna believe you on that," Ryoga whispered, looking down and away, "but with everything you said, it makes sense."

"You see?" he spouted. It was at this moment that a rather important detail struck the pigtailed boy like a freight train barreling down the tracks at full speed.

"Gods Ryoga, he's staying overnight here too!!" Ranma exclaimed, his eyes wider than before. Ryoga stood up suddenly, his face pale.

"What if he tries to hurt Akane??" he asked worriedly, getting more than extremely worked up. Ranma stumbled to his feet, his face also becoming a visage of alarm.

"We gotta stop him! Follow me, and don't get lost!" Ranma shouted, deftly jumping down from the roof, with a drastically frightened lost boy hot on his heels.

  
  


=*=*=*=

  
  


He watched, extremely amused by the antics he had just witnessed on the rooftop of the Japanese home. Smirking and chuckling, the man found it quite hard not to be entertained by the distressed teenagers that had just jumped off the roof of the house.

'Children of this day and age are so foolhardy,' he thought, running a hand through his dark brown hair, crouching on the tree branch, completely enshrouded by the foliage and the sweeping darkness of the night. His long, black trench coat kept him hidden almost completely, his pale skin covered wholly in black clothing, save his hands and face; he sighed softly, vaulting deftly from the branch to the ground, with speed that, by all human standards, was impossible. As he landed, his long, black coat plumed about him, creating the illusion of intimidation.

He stood at his full height, his tall form still blanketed by the sacred ebony of night. His steely gray eyes closely studied the home before him; his vision, which was more accurate than that of a hawk, made special note of all the windows and doors that the abode had to offer. 

The man reached into his trench coat, pulling from it a silver, magnum handgun, moonlight glinting off the barrel. Quickly checking his magazine of bullets, he saw it to be full.

Excellent.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


And would you look at the October-ness of it all. I'm so sorry, it was another friggin' two months. _-_ I've been a lot busier than I thought I would be, and I've been suffering quite severely from writer's block. This chapter didn't even end the way I wanted it to, grah.

But anyhoot, enough of my complaining. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please remember that my existence depends on your reviews. See Chibikat. See Chibikat have no life. Write, Chibikat, write.

*coughs* . . . right. Until next time, yay for cliffhangers. =D

~Chibikat 


	11. Accusations

  
  


Disclaimer: Moi? Own these characters? Ah-ha-ha, sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip. . .

. . . yeah, I won't even finish that sentence, for your sanity and mine. Let's just say that I own the characters in such a way that the lies in the documents involving them would make Enron blush. Huzzah.

  
  


Rating: It's R, you crazy people. Corrupting the youth of today is ever so much fun. Glee.

  
  


Author's Notes: Hoo boy. The current date is October 23rd, in the A.D. part of time known as 2002. Wasn't that interesting? So this is the starting point of Ch. 11. Pray like a friggin' televangelist that I write like the wind.

. . . besides that, I would just like to take in a deep breath and say THANK YOU VERY MUCH for your kind reviews on Ch. 10!! There were more than I expected, and I even got IM messages about it!! *^_^* I was so verra, verra happy (and one very nice and observant person pointed out a plothole larger than the grand canyon. . . . maybe I'm exaggerating, but it was friggin' huge, and I'm SO appreciative of that, thanks Bricobrosse!) 

Anyhoot, yes, muchos thanks to Firewind for her constant ego-feeding and fun fun talks involving Sephiroth and Sesshomaru and Mr. Long Arms and a certain dungeon (you know what I'm talkin' 'bout. ^_~), Val for her spazzy, spazzy way of keeping me inspired and our delightfully depressing RPs, Tania for her hilarious comments about the story ("It was Carmen Electra, wasn't it?" ". . . yes." "I KNEW IT!"), and Naomi for your continued support/badgering me to write this, and of course your beautiful art. You guys are too cool. Too cool for school.

. . . that was long.

And so, brought to you this fine, fine day is the chapter that has been sealed in an air-tight mayonnaise jar since noon of last week. This is of the story currently sanctioned as . .

  
  


~*~

Pandora

~*~

  
  


Comfort. . . that's what he felt, resting in her arms like that. It was such an odd feeling, originating deep in the pit of his stomach; his eyes were closed, his lids heavy with a weary yet terribly familiar tiredness. His dark lashes rested against his rather pale skin, the track of where a lone tear had trailed down his cheek still evident, even in the moonlight. His breathing, once shaky and uneven, had calmed and evened out considerably, his head resting in the crook of her neck. 

Comfort, however, was not enough to distract him from the matters at hand. Comfort and luxury never have been enough, and simply never *would* be enough. This was the case here; her arms, such an intensely foreign feeling upon his body, were slightly warm, but not enough to ward off the distinct chill of the night. Shivering despite himself and, half his mind refusing, he pulled out of their somewhat unexpected embrace. The place where the tear had fallen felt extra cold.

His head was drooped as a sudden flush of complete embarrassment filled his face. To be seen in such a state - in front of Nabiki Tendo, no less! To Tatewaki Kuno, it only served to worsen his problems. He wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to rid his cheeks and lids of any of the offending tears that he had tried so hard to hide. He had lost his sister, and now his dignity. . .

"I apologize," he started, still refusing to meet Nabiki's eyes. He meant to say more, really he did, but he found that the words he wanted to use simply did not suit the meaning he was attempting to convey. 

"For what?" Nabiki asked in a surprisingly soft voice; she was still confused by the situation, however her empathy gears had managed to creak to life, which they rarely did. She watched him take a shuddering breath, expelling it soon afterwards, the water vapor wafting upwards until it evaporated from existence.

"For acting like this. For being so. . ." His mind searched for the right words. ". . . for being so weak."

She stared at him for a minute, unsure of herself once more. Shifting from one foot to the other, she rested her hand closest to Kuno on the guard rail, feeling the texture of the rough wooden plank under her palm. She sighed inaudibly.

"You're not being weak, Kuno-baby," she said, her voice a little more breathy than she would have liked. Nabiki's words puffed from her mouth, swallowed up by the suspiciously damp night air. Rain was coming soon.

"Oh?" the boy asked, emitting a choked, sarcastic noise that could be interpreted as a laugh, "how can you be so sure of that?"

"Kuno, I was just-"

"You were just what?" he softly implored, turning his face to meet Nabiki's; the flame that usually danced in his grey orbs had cooled significantly, down to a few, smoldering embers. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Nabiki figured her own eyes probably looked the same every day; at this thought, she became quiet. Kuno took her temporary silence as an answer in itself.

"Nabiki Tendo, accept the fact that, for once, you do *not* know everything," he said, his voice sounding a tad strained. He turned his head away once more.

"This goes deeper than the trivialities of rivals, of jealousy, and of whatever ridiculously pitiful relationship of consumer and capitalist we have." Kuno bowed his head, moonlight pooling onto his features. Nabiki didn't say anything to this. Yet.

"For once, I just. . ." he started, his words choked, "I am. . ."

"You're scared," she said quietly, more of a statement then a question, tilting her head slightly. Her voice carried a distinct tone that would normally be reserved for a restrained person who had just figured out a complicated problem. Kuno's face hardened at this; ever the stubborn one, he said nothing, only just tolerating the fact that he allowed his breath to hitch at Nabiki's words.

"Kuno-baby, I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, moving beside him again, noticing him flinch, "It's okay to be-"

"I am NOT scared!" he yelled suddenly, snapping his face to look at Nabiki, his eyebrows knotted in a resolute 'V' of defiance. The middle Tendo daughter was found herself to be surprisingly. . . unsurprised.

"Kuno-baby."

"I am not!" he repeated sharply, returning his gaze the Tendo's backyard. His shoulders sunk down a little bit as he did. "I am not. . ."

Nabiki sighed, turning around, leaning her weight back on the porch's handrail, which was oddly sturdy. So that's how he wanted to play it? Fine, let him wallow in denial.

"Say it enough and you might believe it yourself, Kuno," she asserted dryly, finding her compassion gone, though she didn't quite know why. He had opened up a little before - just a little bit - and it was enough to thaw the so-labeled Ice Queen's heart to her more sensitive and maternal side. Frankly, she wouldn't stand for it, now that she had regained her wits.

"When you're finished wrestling with all those inner demons of yours and want to talk some sense, you know where to find me," Nabiki said, replacing her weight on her feet, walking to the sliding door before her.

'Maybe I'm being a little cruel,' a tiny voice in her mind complained. This minute thought was forcibly squashed between walls of slightly self-righteous logic and apathy.

'He needs to cool off.'

'He just lost his sister. . .'

'She's not dead, he'll come to his sense.'

'That doesn't matter and you know it.'

'Oh gods, I'm having a conversation with myself!'

When she realized this, she shuddered a bit, blaming it on the increasingly chilly air. Reaching the paper door, she slid it open; Nabiki paused, her hand still on the wooden frame of the door, and glanced over her shoulder for a moment. Kuno still was half-slumped on the rail. 

Two choices presented themselves to her - go back, because he looked like he needed some help, or go inside and do as she normally would. She paused in the doorway before making her decision.

With a dull 'thunk', Tatewaki Kuno was left standing alone in the night's cold air.

  
  


=*=*=*=

  
  


As she entered the living room of her house, Nabiki was greeted with the sounds of footsteps rapidly speeding around the nearby hallway's corner. Curious, she stepped forward once, only to be promptly smacked in the face with what her brain immediately thought was a brick wall wearing a red, Chinese-style shirt. She was knocked to floor in a slight daze.

"Oh, Nabiki, I didn't see ya there!" the brick wall, later discovered to be Ranma Saotome, said to the girl he had plowed over as he offered his hand to her. Still a little bit on the concussed side, Nabiki's hand flailed a touch before Ranma's fingers closed around it, pulling her up to her feet. With Ranma's help, she stood warily and ran a hand quickly through her hair, gathering her wits soon after. She began to think she really *would* have been better off to run straight at a wall; then again, how silly would that be. Her thoughts briefly wandered to their school's rugby coach Mr. Chisomu, and how he would command rugby players to run into a wall and knock themselves unconscious when they weren't hustling enough in his opinion. Entertaining as that spectacle could be to watch, the thought was waved aside to make room for more important matters.

"Look where you're going next time, then," she mumbled, glaring at Ranma out of the corner of her eye. Mere milliseconds later, an extremely worried looking Ryoga rounded the corner, yelling Ranma's name. Of course, the poor lost boy failed to realize that Ranma was standing stationary in the middle of the narrow hallway and could not stop himself in time. As Newton's Law would have it, Ryoga slammed right into the pigtailed boy; he hit the ground hard, the slap of skin against wood resounding through the area. Both cried out in surprise as their respective bodies flailed in the air before Ryoga landed solidly on top of Ranma's form; the fact that Ranma's face was beginning to turn blue conveyed to Nabiki that the bandana'd boy's weight was severely depriving Ranma of much needed oxygen. Was he flushing red as well? All the colours of the rainbow - who needed Skittles anymore?

Nabiki smirked as she watched Ryoga pick himself up, untangling his limbs from Ranma's. If Nabiki had believed in cosmic fate or something as ridiculous as that, she would have thought it was in full karmic effect.

"Why'd you stop like that?" Ryoga demanded, rubbing the back of his head, wincing slightly. Ranma glared daggers at him.

"It wasn't my fault that you smashed into me like the idiot you are!" Ranma snapped back, also getting to his feet. Irritation was obvious on both the boys' faces; much to Nabiki's surprise, and indeed surprise seemed to frequent the household that night, instead of Ryoga and Ranma starting a fight with each other, Ranma simply shook his head.

"Whatever, forget about it," the pigtailed boy said quickly, turning back around to face Nabiki and addressing her, "have you seen Kuno?"

Nabiki blinked once.

"I have, and I'm withholding information for my own sadistic pleasure. Why?" she asked, crossing her arms. Ranma, looking strained as he was, balled his fists at his side in what could have either been irritation or. . . no, it was just irritation, really.

"Nabiki, we ain't got time for this, I need you tell me where Kuno is right now!" Ranma barked at her. Nobody barked at Nabiki Tendo.

NOBODY.

"Why? To profess a secret, undying love for him?" Nabiki asked innocently enough, tilting her head, "Because I swear that I've seen you check him out on more than one occasion, in your guy form no less. . ."

"I knew it," Ryoga stated dryly, smirking at Ranma.

"Shut up pig boy, she's just bein' annoying! Gods!" the pigtailed martial artist shouted, gritting his teeth together, finding himself to be at the end of his rope temper-wise. "Nabiki, just tell me where he is!"

"Again with the why."

"Do you *want* to be murdered in your sleep?"

"By you? Ranma, I had no idea of your homicidal tendencies, I should really inform Akane."

"Not by me, Nabiki, by Kuno!!"

There was a lull of silence that hung over the room for a scant few moments; once again, Nabiki found herself blinking a few times in order to process the extremely weird information she had just been force-fed by Ranma.

"What are you talking about?" Nabiki finally asked after a couple seconds, looking curious, if not a wee bit disturbed. Ranma sighed a bit, glad that he was *finally* getting somewhere with such an important issue.

"Okay Nabiki, me and Ryoga think that Kuno's the one who tried to kill Kodachi," Ranma said solemnly, looking Nabiki square in the eyes. Nabiki tried extremely hard to suppress the laughter that was steadily worming its way up her throat; she managed to do it, a credit to her acting abilities.

"Kuno? You don't say?" Nabiki said, feigning surprise and interest, a tiny smirk chiseling itself onto her features, "well that makes perfect sense!"

"I know!" Ranma began; however, he was promptly cut off by Nabiki raising her hand.

"Ranma, that was sarcasm." On his part, the young Saotome furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why're you being sarcastic with me, Nabiki? This is serious!" he stated, a hardened tone in his voice. Nabiki, in the back of her mind, noticed that Ryoga wasn't saying anything, but switching back and forth from looking worried to having a face of determination. Lost boy aside, her mood now was steadily slipping from quaintly amused to tottering on the edge of exasperation; as such, Nabiki rolled her eyes. 

"Please. What reason would Kuno-baby have for trying to kill his sister? Yes they fight, but so do you and Akane. It doesn't mean she's out to murder you." She paused. "Well, most of the time. Sometimes she can get damn upset, and we all know it's not pretty."

"But she has every right to!" Ryoga said, finally piping up. He was blushing a bit - whether it was from righteous anger or from that adorable little crush he had on the youngest Tendo daughter, Nabiki wasn't entirely positive, "Ranma always makes her angry by being a jerk, so it's not her fault!"

"That's really sweet, I'll make sure to tell Akane," Nabiki said, her tone far too sugary-sweet to not be disturbing. Ryoga, attempting to decide whether to blush further or to be scared, decided to simply knot his eyebrows together, stand there and, not say anything; his mouth opened and closed a couple times before letting his gaze fall to the floor, and his mouth stay shut. 

"It's true," he whispered determinedly, scratching the back of his head nervously. Ranma, annoyed to all hell by this, sighed cacophonously.

"We ain't talking about Akane and her maniac tendencies - Ryoga, shut up before you say anything in her defense, 'cause I don't care!" Ranma warned, shooting the aforementioned lost boy a meaningful glare. Ryoga silently glared right back.

The brown haired Tendo, leaning against the wall, arched an eyebrow disinterestedly.

"Well kiddies, it's been fun, but really, you should get out more. When you're alone with your thoughts, they tend to get warped," she said in her normally deadpan fashion, beginning to walk past both of them.

"Nabiki, wait! I'm being *serious* here!"

"So am I; I'm being seriously annoyed. I'm going off to do something productive with my life, I'll see you around."

In a sheer sign of desperation for the girl to listen to him, Ranma grabbed her arm, forcibly whirling her around. Surprised by this, Nabiki lost her footing temporarily, but managed to gain it back with only some slight wobbling.

"Ranma, what the hell-??"

"Nabiki, just shut up and listen to me for once!" he yelled, releasing her arm, "because it's too dangerous to let you be around him alone!" Now this really got Nabiki's proverbial goat; not only does he grab her, but now he's telling her what to do? Exasperation turned into anger. In fact, some of that anger wasn't simply directed at Ranma for him being annoying, but the fact that he would accuse Kuno of such a thing - in the state he was currently in? No. It wasn't allowed.

"Ranma, have you actually *seen* Kuno since we found out what happened?" She paused briefly for dramatic effect. "Well? Have you? He's acting worse than a little lost puppy, for Kami's sake!" Nabiki watched Ranma's eyes flash for a moment; hello, was what she was saying actually getting through to him?

For a few moments, Ranma didn't say anything.

'She's got a point,' he thought, 'I saw him in the classroom that day, and. . . gods, he looked so sad. . .' He quickly shook his head, as if to clear it of the offending train of recollection.

"That don't mean anything, Nabiki. Maybe he's just actin' really well, or something like that - c'mon Nabiki, you know as well as I do that Kuno is a psycho, an' we don't know how far he'd go with some things," Ranma stated, somewhat more for his benefit than Nabiki's. In turn, Nabiki felt a flush of anger run through her system; what was Ranma saying, that Kuno was just some sort of mental case that belonged in an institution?

Nabiki surprised herself by her next spoken sentences.

"He's not a lunatic, Ranma! Gods, did you ever just stop and think about his feelings for once?? His sister has just been kidnaped - he's depressed, confused, and gods forbid this, he's SCARED! Where do you get off accusing him of hurting his own sister like that??"

Ranma was a bit taken aback by Nabiki's sudden outburst - Nabiki never got this emotional about anything, *especially* not about defending the likes of Kuno. Silence hung in the air; he stared at her for a long while, before he set his mouth into a thin, determined line. Gathering his wits, he stalked forward towards the middle Tendo daughter.

"Last night when Akane kicked me outta the house, I ran into Kuno. You wanna tell me something about him not bein' a looney? He was covered in *blood*, Nabiki."

Surprise clearly registered on her face; her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth opened to say something, yet the words choked and died in her throat before seeing the light of day. Ranma nodded once, as if to confirm that what he just said was, indeed, true.

"Where do you think all that blood came from? It sure as hell couldn't have been from training, he didn't have many cuts on his body, but his clothes were soaked and dripping in blood." He took another step forward, his electric blue eyes challenging Nabiki.

"You tell me how that blood coulda got there, Nabiki. Use your brain to make up some excuses." Ranma paused for a short while; during this time, Nabiki said nothing. "You can't, can you? There ain't no other way it coulda happened. Just give up an' admit I'm right, for *once*."

Nabiki still looked stunned; she swallowed the lump in her throat, and stared blankly at the floor. No, it couldn't be true, it just *couldn't* be! Kuno-baby wouldn't lie to her like that. . . she saw his eyes. They were so empty and sad - there was no way any actor could do that, no matter how good they were. It was just impossible!

"No," she said quietly, still not looking up at Ranma.

"Yes," he replied, his voice softening, "Nabiki, there isn't another explanation, really. Even I can see that, and I ain't smart like you are." Ranma took Nabiki's continued silence as an answer.

"Those weird auras he's been having too? That ain't natural; it's not chi, and I can tell. I dunno if it's some stupid, magic thing that he's found like that Phoenix Egg, but whatever it is, it's *wrong*. Then, just by coincidence, Kodachi is suddenly gone, leavin' a bloody mess behind. It just fits together too well for there to be any other way," Ranma explained to Nabiki, stepping back from her to give her some room. He looked over at Ryoga, who bit his lip in return, a fang peeking out cutely.

Due to the silence in the immediate area, it was rather easy for the three of them to hear the sliding door to the backyard open. It was a quiet, but remarkably distinct sound as well; it closed soon after, and the soft treading of footsteps echoed quietly through the hall that Nabiki, Ranma, and Ryoga were standing in.

"That was Kuno, wasn't it?" Ranma said, a statement if there ever was one, and he was still looking at Nabiki. The gears in the girl's mind were manically cranking and winding away, attempting to file away all the information that she had beared witness to in chronological, *reasonable* order, however she was currently failing miserably.

"Yeah. It was," she replied, looking down the hallway. The footsteps were getting distinctly closer.

"Stand back, then. This ain't gonna be pretty," the pigtailed martial artist grimly announced, cracking his knuckles together. At this, Nabiki widened her eyes a bit.

"Ranma, what do you think you're gonna do? Just walk up to him and beat him senseless?" she asked, sounding astonished, though realizing that, as depressing as it was, it was Ranma's only known course of action for him.

"Well, yeah, what else? I do it every day anyway," he said, looking at Nabiki oddly. This was not enough to satisfy Nabiki Tendo, though.

"What if you're wrong?"

"What if I'm right?"

Nabiki sighed sharply, frustrated by the futileness of her words to sway Ranma; the boy was being as stubborn as ever, and it certainly wasn't helping any that. . .

. . . gods, he actually sounded like he was *right*.

"Ranma, maybe Nabiki has a point," Ryoga said, much meeker than he was before. He had been quietly observing the heated conversation for the most part, and both had made some rather interesting points.

"Ryoga, what do you mean?" Ranma inquired, looking oddly at Ryoga, "I thought you an' me were agreed on this!"

"Well, I'm just saying that m-maybe Nabiki has a point is all! I mean, we don't really know all the facts, and. . ." he began, hesitating in his speech, yet making his face as determined as he could, ". . . and I just don't think that anyone could be horrible enough to do that to their own family! I saw his reaction when we saw what was on the T.V., and he just looked too sad!"

"Ryoga. . ." Ranma said, sounding rather annoyed, practically growling the lost boy's name.

"I'd be acting weird too if I found out that someone in my family was hurt like that," Ryoga stated, his eyes now focused on the ground. With the way he was talking, it sound as if he was only vocalizing selected pieces of an internal soliloquy; his facial expressions knotted into that of worry after a few moments.

"Well how would you feel if you just let him go, and it turned out that I was right all along, and he ended up hurting Akane?" Ranma bit off, glaring sharply at the bandana'd martial artist. Getting the reaction that he was looking for, Ranma saw Ryoga's eyes widen slightly, and his visage of concern becoming even more apparent. The footsteps seemed to have faded to nothingness, but Nabiki found she was the only one who had taken much notice of it.

"I don't want her hurt!" Ryoga exclaimed, looking up at Ranma, his eyes brimming with worry, wringing his hands together, "but I don't want to needlessly harm him if we're wrong!"

"Yeah, well, maybe we have to take some chances with this, then!" Ranma shouted right back, looking as established in his ideals as any greater man who walked the earth before him. It was Nabiki's turn now to watch the argument that was ensuing, yet she found herself wondering where Kuno could have wandered off to, if she couldn't hear the footfalls anymore.

"But I just. . . I've thought about this a little more, and I just can't believe that he would do such a thing!" the lost boy said, gazing down at the ground once more.

"Do what sort of thing?" a deep, yet soft voice questioned from a little ways down the hall. All present turned their attentions to the end of the hallway that, by all standards, was not a terrible distance away. There stood none other than their subject of conversation and arguments; he leaned against the wall of the corridor, his arms crossed over his chest, yet in a way more befitting a person who was cold than one who was angry or being defiant. His tired eyes seemed weighted down.

"Kuno-baby?" Nabiki asked, as if just saying the boy's name would force everything to make some sort of merry sense. It didn't. Out of the corner of her eye, Nabiki saw Ranma tense up slightly, and Ryoga simply stood there, unsure as to what he should be doing or feeling. Kuno looked at the three of them, furrowing his eyebrows a bit; he looked as if he was studying something tritely complex, if that was at all possible, with his head slightly tilted. While curious, he seemed far too tired to be really interested.

"What is it that you are discussing?" he asked quietly, blinking a few times, "the animosity is near to the point of solidification." Nabiki was a bit surprised; Kuno never seemed to be the brightest crayon in the box, and perception was never his strong point, so it was quite amazing that he was able to pick up on the tension alive and kicking in the relatively small hallway.

"We're talkin' about you," Ranma answered, a slightly bitter tone in his voice, "an' I don't know what animosity means, but yeah, it's pretty big here." Once again, Kuno looked tiredly perplexed.

"Why am I the centre of your argument?" the kendoist inquired, stepping forward into the hallway. He made a conscious effort not to meet gazes with Nabiki as he did so.

"You wanna know why?" Ranma asked dangerously, he himself stepping forward, balling his fist by his side, "I'll tell you why! 'Cause I've figured everything out, *that's* why!" Kuno looked very much like a bemused little puppy before everything in his tired mind clicked into place, and his eyes widened a bit.

"You have?" he breathed, searching Ranma's face for any sort of indication that he was lying. Kuno couldn't believe it; of all people, it was the most loathsome Ranma Saotome who had discovered the people behind the heinous kidnaping of his sister! That is what it had to be about; he looked so dead serious, there was no way he was referring to something else.

"Yeah, I have. Don't look so shocked Kuno; I mean, it was pretty obvious after I really thought about it," Ranma stated, looking steadily at Kuno who, indeed, appeared to be shocked.

"You, thinking of something Ranma? No wonder Kuno-baby's so surprised," Nabiki commented dryly, deciding her words would have more effect if she didn't actually look at Ranma; despite the fact her eyes were not on his form, Nabiki could feel Ranma just bristling with annoyed anger.

"Nabiki, stay out of this," he ground out, keeping his own eyes trained on Kuno. 

"But. . ." Kuno began, his brow creasing slightly in confusion; he looked straight at Ranma, his eyes wide and imploring, "but how?" Snorting in indignation, Ranma crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Oh, it was obvious enough, once I knew what to look for. You've been acting weird lately - well, weirder'n usual - and then that night when I ran into you, and you were just *drenched* in blood. I'd say that was a bit outta the ordinary, wouldn't you?" he asked scathingly, glaring at the boy before him. Kuno looked as if he was about to say something before Ranma raised his hand, silencing him.

"I ain't finished yet," he said simply, looking rather serious, "so don't talk until I am."

"Ranma," Ryoga said quietly, stepping towards the pigtailed martial artist, looking a bit apprehensively at Kuno before turning his full attention to Ranma, "come on, that's enough."

"No, it *ain't* enough, Ryoga, so shut up!" he growled, "You and me both know exactly what happened, so stop being so wussy about it! Who knows what he'll do next? If you don't stand up with me, Akane could get hurt!" Ranma mentally smirked as he watched Ryoga's eyes widen, his deep pools of brown sparkling with concern. Kuno's own eyes mirrored Ryoga's at Ranma's comment.

"What?? Who will hurt Akane!?" Kuno asked, a frantic tone clawing its way onto the edge of his voice. On his part, Ranma was about fed up with the innocence that Kuno was so aptly feigning. He whirled around to face him.

"YOU, ya sick bastard!" he yelled, his fists balled so tightly by his side he was sure he was going to break the skin on his palms. Shock mingled famously with confusion and distress at Ranma's sudden outburst; Kuno took a step back, not only due to Ranma's course language, but also because of the tremendous weight of his statement. Biting her lip in annoyance, Nabiki quietly, but purposefully, strode down the hallway, away from the fight. No one seemed to notice.

"Wh. . . what. . .?" the kendoist asked quietly, his eyes widened, staring with numbed horror at the three people surrounding him. Ranma continued to look extremely angry.

"Don't give me that!" he shouted, taking a step forward to compensate for the closeness lost between them. Ranma let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "I should have known it was you, Kuno - you were always so weird and obsessive; it just figures you would do something like this!" Tatewaki continued to back up with every step closer that Ranma took; the shock had not yet worn off, and while Kuno's mouth opened and closed, no word of defense was brought forth from his lips. 

"What a-are you saying??" he said, an frantic edge in his question. Ranma narrowed his eyes.

"I'm saying that it was *you*, Kuno. Who else would it be? It was done with a bladed weapon - why not a *sword*, huh? You ain't as good as me, but you ain't dumb with a sword, are ya?" he continued, smirking a bit at Kuno's shocked silence, "Then you managed to hide her somewhere. You're pretty much all alone in that big ol' mansion of yours, you must know of *plenty* of great places to hide a body, don't you??"

"No-!" he started, desperately attempting to try and say something. His eyes were wide and panic stricken, almost as if he was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, I think you do. And then you go off running down the street for some bizarre reason only *your* twisted mind could conjure; just one problem - you run into *me*." Ranma finally stopped stepping closer to the boy, now mere inches apart from his face. The pigtailed martial artist lowered his voice so only Kuno could hear.

"I saw the blood all over you, Kuno. It all makes sense," he contended, his voice steadily rising in volume as he spoke. Kuno had seemed to have gotten over the shock somewhat, and his face was eerily unreadable. 

"And now I know that you were the one to do it. Your own sister! Gods, you sick, twisted, crazy little-"

Ranma was suddenly cut off by the sensation of cold water being poured onto his head. Nabiki, who had silently returned with a glass of water, dumped the stuff all over Ranma, successfully triggering his change into his cursed body, and stopping his rant.

"Cool off!" Nabiki ordered, staring down at the now red-headed girl, spluttering and wiping her bangs from her eyes. She glared up at Nabiki, angered at having his bombast cut off so suddenly.

"What was that for?!" she demanded, her rage still quite alive, but redirected for the meantime.

"I won't have any more property damage tonight. I know where you were headed with this; enough is *enough*, just stop it," the brown haired girl ground out, her words just oozing with venom as she spoke to the soaked girl in front of her.

Kuno stared blankly at the two girls now before him.

"Pigtailed Girl. . .?" he asked, his voice as small and vulnerable as that of a child's. Ranma quickly snapped her head to the direction of Kuno's voice, opening her mouth to say something more caustic than before; however, she stopped suddenly when she saw the expression on Kuno's face.

Tears were shining in his eyes; he stared at some point that laid between the floor and the face of the boy-turned-girl, grey and temporarily unseeing. His mouth hung ajar, his eyebrows upturned, looking the very picture of a beaten and abandoned animal, breathing unsteadily.

"I c-could. . . I could never. . ." he said, his words trailing off somewhat as his mouth attempted to work once more, moving yet silent. He swallowed dryly, and it was as if some sort of floodgate had been opened; a tear streaked down his ashen face, his breathing becoming heavier and more ragged. His fists, clenching and unclenching by his sides were trembling minutely.

He also began to glow a soft, yet remarkably dark, shade of blue.

"I could never hurt her like that!!" the desperate boy exclaimed, snapping his gaze up to girl-type Ranma's, his eyes as despairing as his voice, sparkling with the unmistakable glint of tears, the blue aura reflected in the unshed drops. 

"I w-was supposed to protect her, but I. . . I failed! I was n-not there when sh-she needed me, a-and now. . . and. . . oh g-gods, Kocchi!" he choked out, quickly turning his back to all those present, covering his eyes with his hands. At that moment, all he wanted to do was go crawl into some horrendously unpleasant black hole and die. He felt so miserably. . . alone.

They watched him cry, and gods, was it painful to see. The aura that surrounded him continued to glow, and seemed to almost glitter, like there were diamonds carefully studded into the sobbing boy's atmosphere. Like diamonds, or. . . or like ice, even. Cold and lonely and as untouchable as ice.

Nabiki, Ryoga and Ranma watched this, unable to say anything that would fit into the situation; there they were, unable to understand, or even comprehend, all that was happening in such a short period of time. Everything was quiet except for the choked sobs issued from the shuddering boy's body; he hugged himself, his entire frame quaking as he fell to his knees, embraced by the deathly cold of the hauntingly beautiful aura surrounding him.

She felt something twist inside the pit of her stomach as she watched him, so helpless on the ground. Nabiki, biting her lip, walked forward, kneeling down beside Kuno - gods but he was cold! She wasn't even touching him, and she could feel what could only be described as sub-zero temperatures biting at her skin. 

"Kuno-baby. . .?" she whispered, wanting to calm him down; she had no idea why he had these auras, but from what little she had seen, they always affected his body, and *always* for the worse. They even seemed to go hand in hand with whatever sort of emotional extreme he was experiencing; as such, Nabiki figured she needed to get him less depressed, and quick.

She took another look at him, and decided it was only a few hairs short of impossible.

"Kuno-baby, shh, come on," she coaxed, the entire situation once again feeling horrendously unknown, "it's okay, you'll see her again. . ."

"I w-would not hurt her. . . I c-could not-!" he pleaded between sobs, hiding his face as best he could from Nabiki. Her own features softened.

"I know, Tacchi," she assured him, in a voice so quiet no one else could hear. Nabiki also noticed that she had used a rather affectionate nickname for him that she hadn't for quite a long time. "I know you wouldn't hurt her. Don't listen to Ranma, it's okay. . ."

Nabiki continued to utter soothing words to Kuno, who was shaking like a leaf in the wind on the floor of the Tendo house. As she did this, his aura steadily began to deplete; it first lost the almost hypnotizing glitter of icy white, becoming progressively paler, changing from indigo to something of a washed-out blue. Reaching her hand across to his back, Nabiki rested her palm against his quivering body; it was still colder than should be humanly possible to survive, but she could feel heat begin to slowly radiate once more from him as she continued to speak and rub his back. 

Ranma stared at this, not knowing what to say. She was positive - *positive* - that Kuno was behind it this entire time! Everything had coincided so neatly, it all made actual, logical sense that he would be the one to have hurt Kodachi like she had been; and yet, there Kuno was, reduced to a wreck on the floor. She knotted her eyebrows, half in concern, half in confusion, taking a small step forward; if she was wrong, then. . . then she had said some pretty nasty things to him.

She shook her head - no, it didn't make a difference that Kuno was putting on this show! A lot of people could turn their tears on and off like a faucet, actors did it all the time! Not even bothering to believe that train of thought, Ranma looked morosely down at the progressively calming kendoist, finding her once hard-as-rock resolve to be collapsing like a souffle. 

The trance that she had been lulled into by the generally depressed mood of those surrounding her came to a screeching halt when she heard distinct sounds coming from what could only be the roof. Snapping her gaze upwards, Ranma Saotome's ears strained to listen for the sounds of footsteps walking across the roof; they were far too heavy to belong to that of the normal fare of martial artists in Nerima, who preferred to wear Chinese-style slippers. No. . . these footfalls sounded like they were wearing boots. 

They were also walking towards where the door to the backyard was. 

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Screw it. I know this chapter is short - much shorter than usual - but I have been having such a terrible time with school lately that it's the best I can do for now. End of semester sucks. =P I couldn't even work on this properly during Christmas break, because I was in Florida (and computerless, go figure) for a good portion of the time. Though it *was* quite warm, and I got to go on rides. ^_^

*sighs* I'm very, very sorry for this disappointing and crappy chapter. ;_; I promise to make the next one super great though, with action, suspense, and. . . and something meaningful to the plot! =D Alright, so please don't stop yourselves from reviewing, even though this chapter was significantly below my usual caliber. _-_ Blame the teachers. Blaaaame the teeeeeachers. . .

  
  


~Chibikat

P.S.: Just a bit of FYI, Pandora is now officially a year old. O_o Weird. . .


	12. Propositions

  
  


Disclaimer: If Rumiko Takahashi EVER finds out that I'm using her dear, sweet characters like this, she would hunt me down, chop my toes off and force me to watch hours on end of Monster Rancher, slowly driving me not only to the brink of madness, but wondering why there must be so many "Gotta catch 'em all!" type anime out there.

  
  


Suffice to say, I shall here make a great show of stating that these characters are not mine. ^_^ Well. . . except for the bad guys. . . but NOBODY wants them, trust me. @.@

  
  


Rating: I'm telling you right now, the beginning and end of this chapter is DISTURBING. Please keep this in mind when I say this chapter is rated R, okay? ^^

  
  


Author's Notes: Hee, well, didn't that last chapter take a hella long time to reach you guys? I'm so, so, SO sorry that it did!! _ I wanted to write, but time and work and vacation (yes, even vacation was against me, dammit!) did not permit me to, and I didn't even write the chapter the way I wanted to. *sigh*

  
  


So, here I am at this very moment, typing like mad before I have to go to school. Why? Because I really, really want to get this chapter done quickly. XD So once again, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, I really appreciate it! It makes me write faster, wouldn'tcha know. ^_~

  
  


On that lovely note, I bring to you today the one, the only, the ORIGINAL. . .

  
  
  
  


~*Pandora*~

  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  


It was like a tiny beacon amongst the sea of darkness that pervaded the room; it dangled helplessly on the stark, metal chain, making a show of elegant frailty as it sloshed about the clear, glass container, a rich and thick colour. Yet, despite the fact that it, too, was dark, there was an almost unearthly, pale glow that encompassed it, beautifully entrancing. Ashen fingertips touched the small vial rather reverently; she stroked it gently, her eyes dancing over the glass bottle, memorizing its every feature. Slowly, she brought her object of affection to eye level, suspending it as close to her face as she could manage.

Her blood was truly exquisite - rich, textured, and smooth. Not a drop of it stuck to the sides of the transparent vial, dutifully flowing in whatever direction the woman holding the necklace tipped it; and gods, but it was so seductively smooth. . .

Kurai brought the vial to her lips, softly kissing it, her fangs clicking gently against the glass as she did so. Lifting the chain above her head, she put the necklace on, the cold, stainless steel of the chain resting on her alabaster skin. Eyes fluttering and breath exhaling as if she were mid-coitus, Kurai turned around, her eyes falling on the full-sized mirror that hung on the otherwise bare wall.

It felt. . . it *looked* so right; the weight of it, its position of being cradled between the top of her cleavage, and the savory, intoxicating colour of the liquid within, beautifully matching her eyes and lips.

A piece of her Pretty hung around her neck. And she loved it.

It hadn't been too long since she had last visited her new plaything. Kurai still felt anger in the pit of her stomach, thinking of how those sniveling, spineless larvae under the guise of being men (who weren't terribly better) had been in the cell, had *touched* her Pretty! Such lowly minds could not have hoped to begin to comprehend what they were laying their filthy, weak hands on.

Beauty. Grace. *Innocence*.

Though she couldn't stop her fist from involuntarily clenching by her side, Kurai knew that, at least, they were dead. She had considered - briefly - consuming their fresh remains, but their guts stunk of such masculine stupidity that it churned her stomach, sickening her.

No matter. For when she had seen her Pretty, crying, bleeding, half-naked and so beautiful on the hard floor, she knew that those bastards of guards could not have taken away Pretty's innate. . .

. . . perfection.

She had cried and screamed so desperately in Kurai's embrace, scratching and clawing at any part of her body that could be hurt, Pretty's face as delicate as that of a porcelain doll. Her tears shone like diamonds in the dim light of the cell, if not surpassing said gems in breathtaking beauty and worth.

She had sprawled her Pretty on the floor, naked and broken and heart-wrenchingly gorgeous, watching with quiet fascination as she sobbed, her entire body shaking. Her once strong muscles had been weakened by exhaustion and pain, yet she still fought her, terrified and desperate, not unlike a caged animal. Brown eyes, deep and complex, grew wide with fear when she saw her - what she had done, able to easily see what she *wanted* to do.

Oh. . . the screams. . . the agonizingly beautiful screams. . .

It was enough to make her shiver in delight once more; the mere thought of the young gymnast, so open and so used, brought a sort of wicked, lusting grin to Kurai's face, her lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

'Yes,' Kurai thought, closing her eyes and clutching the bottle of Kodachi's blood that hung around her neck, 'she is mine.'

From the moment Kurai had seen her in her room, quaking gently in fear under the protective arms of the moonlgith, she knew that her Pretty was. . . different. The ninja woman was certainly not a stranger to her line of work; she had captured countless other young girls in the past, all of them terrified; each were taken, enjoyed, and eventually were tired of and eaten. She had long forgotten who they were and their distinct features, all of them sort of blurring and blending together in Kurai's memory.

No, not her Pretty, though. Skin as smooth as cream, her long raven locks a sea of black that glistened in the light of the moon, a delicate face with classically beautiful features, and blood so indescribably exquisite that it had become an addiction of sorts for Kurai. Her Pretty was even so chaste and perfect that those idiotic, pathetic guards, who had managed to penetrate her first, could not take from her the distinct taste of a virgin - so sweet, so torturously pure.

For once, Kurai didn't want to kill her plaything after she was finished with the playing. Pretty was far too beautiful, and much too flawless.

She couldn't help but wonder, as she fingered the new treasure hanging around her neck, what she would do when Naomi told her to execute one of two plans: give her Pretty back, or kill her. Pretty was, as Naomi had put it, simply a means to an end, and it was *she* who was expendable, *not* their target. They had all worked hard to come this close to achieving their goal, and yet their main objective was so weak, and so *generic*.

That boy could not even begin to understand the depths of his fledgling power, his gracious gift; both she and Naomi knew this. If he did, they would certainly be much less sloppy in the way they were doing things.

Kurai herself had suggested getting to their target through his sister, despite the fact she knew they would have had little trouble abducting him on their own. Of course, that wouldn't have been nearly half as fun.

The black haired ninja continued with her thoughts as she breezed past her impressive collection of weapons, displayed on various racks and hooks beside her bedroll; although Kurai was well aware of her prowess in bare-fisted martial arts, sleep *is* sleep. If all she had to do to defeat her attacker was reach out for a katana and slice their head clean off, so be it; she did not like to be interrupted, and sleep was certainly no exception.

Out the door she went, her bare feet padding soundlessly down the sterile, metal hallway - one of the many in the labyrinth that made up Pandora's Underground. Each passageway was bland and identical in order not to only confuse and trap possible invaders, but to test new employees; when one joined Pandora, they had to be able to aptly use their other senses and their instincts. Otherwise, they were dead. Also, it was rather entertaining to see the new recruits wander the same hallway two, three, maybe ten times in an hour, very much confused and lost. It was like a spectator sport. Kurai, however, knew exactly where she was going, and where her destination was lying in wait.

She strode through the hallways carved of raw steal, greatly rewarded with quick glances of fear and, in some brave cases, disgust; Kurai had always loved being able to intimidate those surrounding her, for the sense of power was a rush all on its own. Inwardly, she smirked, her path cleared simply by her natural aura of nigh-psychotic calm, filling each hallway she darkened with a tense, scared ambience.

Another turn. Another staircase. Yet more turns. Minutes passed as she silently stalked down the many corridors of the corporation, the only sound to be heard the nearly silent slap of feat on unforgiving metal.

Finally, the statuesque woman came to a halt in front of a set of enormous, severe-looking steel doors. In bold, black letters, it read above it "CELL BLOCK 1-D", proud and large. This particular set of cells were specifically tailored to Kurai's tastes and fetishes. Stepping up to them, the doors opened automatically.

The stench of blood was like a tidal wave that washed over her, covering her body entirely. Kurai inhaled deeply, closing her eyes; it smelled marvelous, the scent already beginning to have its desired effect on the fanged woman.

Slap, slap, slap.

She took each step slowly and deliberately, pausing a few times to simply revel in the odor of the place, fear and anguish nearly palatable in the metal hall that stretched before Kurai. The cells obediently lined each side of her, all the same on the outside, but deliciously different within. Blood red eyes looked up to her right, following the numbers above each cell.

210. . . 211. . . 212. . . 213. . . 214. . .

The slap of her feet came to a stop in front of one particular chamber, the number 215 etched above it; a tiny window with a sliding panel was the only visual access to the inside of it, and currently, the panel was closed shut. However, Kurai did not have to be able to see inside the prison to know what was guarded so carefully within.

Her violated little angel. Her Pretty.

The stink of blood and sex was easy to smell, even through the thick, metal door that separated stark reality with lustful fantasy for the woman before it. She pressed her ear to the door, and was awarded with a sound that made her entire body tingle.

It was faint, but there; her plaything's ragged, hitched breathing, and the positively audible picture of tears trickling down the captured girl's face. So softly she was crying, so remarkably, beautifully sad. . .

Shivering in anticipation, she quickly dug out of her obi a relatively nondescript key, save for the number 251 embossed on its head. It slid into the lock easily; with a deft turn of her hand and the unmistakable metallic hiss and click that followed, Kurai unlocked the steel mammoth of a door. She pushed on it, the well-oiled hinges resisting, but just barely.

The smell of blood intensified, wafting about the stuffy, windowless cell like invisible smoke from a very symbolic sort of fire. A lonely, bare lightbulb hung steadfastly in the centre of the place, its low wattage barely illuminating the various puddles of drying blood, the thicker splotches glistening softly, reflecting the dark room in its sinister mirror.

And there, huddling in the far corner of the cell, almost entirely covered in shadow, was her Pretty.

Kodachi's body was now devoid of any sort of clothing, her only protection being the relievingly dark embrace of the jail's shadows. Her brown eyes were wide and unseeing, curled up in the fetal position against the wall, rocking back and forth, trembling with fear, disgust, and most certainly cold. Her dry, harsh sobs were interspersed with shaky mumbling under her breath, tears choking her quiet words.   
  
Obviously, her Pretty had not realized that her captor had entered the tiny cell, much too preoccupied in the dark corner of both the room and her mind, trying to desperately merge with the darkness and fade into nothingness. Kurai watched this; ruby lips twisted up into what could be considered a smile of sorts - Pretty must have been in such pain, such mental anguish and shame. If she strained her ears, Kurai swore she could hear each individual nerve ending of her toy screaming in agony, begging for all of it to stop, just to go back home.   
  
Maybe it was just her imagination, though.   
  
Kurai stepped forward, her feet expertly making no sound as she crossed the mats; oh ho, what was this scratching sound she heard? Her attention successfully caught, the cannibal stared intently at Kodachi; the young girl's hand was raised, her fingers a pathetic imitation of claws as she scratched weakly at the wall beside her, sobbing loudly. She leaned forward in her corner, trying to force more weight into her deliciously feeble attempts at escape.   
  
Whether it was from blood loss, pain, shock, or a delightful combination of said variables, Kodachi's hand slipped on the metal wall, causing her to lose balance. Frantically, she scrabbled for a hold on the smooth, metal surface, but in vain; she hit the ground hard, eliciting from her a cracked cry of pain, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.   
  
Now fully exposed in the waning light of the cell, Kurai allowed her eyes to wander over her Pretty's pale, bare flesh, made even more perfect with the dry and wet blood that splattered her form. Seeing her like this, so weak, created a fluttering sensation in her lower stomach, and she found herself unable to stop a low, lustful moan from escaping her lips.   
  
Her entire body quivering, Kodachi froze instantly when she heard the unmistakable sound of the woman's voice, feeling a shadow dwarf her shaking frame. With trepidation, the scared girl slowly opened her tear-filled eyes, turning them upwards at the figure above her. Eyes resting on the woman's white, severe face, she opened her mouth, trying to scream but unable to find the power to do so. 

Kurai smiled wickedly back.

  
  
  
  


*=*=*

  
  


Yes, they were definitely footsteps that Ranma heard up on the roof; quickly, and as a way to distract herself from the messy situation at hand that she felt (partially) responsible for, she ran through her mind a mental list of who it could be. Mr. Tendo? No, she remembered seeing him with Kasumi in the living room; her own father had assumed panda form, as he normally did when pressing matters arose, so he was probably asleep at the very moment.

She closed her eyes, clenching and unclenching her fists, the unsteady sounds of Kuno's hitched breathing affecting her more than she really wanted; in the back of her mind, the boy turned girl was slowly beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, she *wasn't* right after all.

No! No. . . it all made too much sense for her NOT to be right! She shook her head; she would think of this later, once she had everything sorted out. For now, the question of who was on the roof was bugging the hell out of her. She turned to Ryoga; he was looking at the wall, yet his eyes betrayed the fact that he was in deep thought about something, judging from their somewhat glazed appearance. 

"Ryoga?" she asked, biting her lip. Jogged out of whatever thought he was musing over, Ryoga flinched, looking up at Ranma with the expression of someone who had just been slapped in the face. He expelled his breath gently, his gaze locking with Ranma's for a scant moment before turning it to the ground, traces of anger twisting onto his features.

Great, just what she always wanted to do - deal with a pissed off and confused Ryoga. Ranma sighed irately, running a hand through her now crimson hair; she decided to risk bodily injury that she may or may not have been able to defend herself against by stepping up closer to the fanged boy, nudging him a bit.

"Hey," she said quietly, "do you hear that on the roof?"

He looked skeptical at her tone, as the lost boy usually did whenever she talked to him. His glance was narrow and sharp, suspicion evident in his body language as Ryoga crossed his arms over his chest, in a sort of 'what-the-hell-are-you-trying-to-pull-now?' stance that made Ranma what to throttle his neck and apologize at the same time. The pigtailed girl closed her eyes, determined to get through to him; yeah, sure, it was only about footsteps on a roof, but it was a small victory. Besides, she was absolutely determined *not* to focus on what was now happening behind her, with Kuno and Nabiki.

"I don't hear anything," he replied dully, defiantly looking away from her form.

"Well listen *harder*, Ryoga, 'cause I know I ain't hearing things," Ranma bit off, too tired and emotionally worn to take any of the bandana'd boy's moody crap; maybe if the guy wasn't so bloody tight-laced, the rod up his ass would ease up a bit. . .

In return, Ryoga clenched his teeth together, glaring at Ranma, ready to say something insulting; however, his eyes seemed to flicker briefly over Ranma's shoulder, to where Kuno was managing to gain some semblance of control over his emotions; the blue colour was dying down, and Nabiki, who seemed to just realize exactly what she was doing, with whom, in the presence of human life forms, and was standing beside the kendoist, not touching him. Ryoga's scowl softened, and he turned his eyes back to Ranma, almost as if to admit defeat.

Rather than say anything more, Ryoga closed his eyes, his ears straining to hear any noise outside of the hallway. He had finely trained senses; from all his time spent in the wilds of Japan's forests and mountains, it was essential that he had fully-functioning and acute senses, in order to be able to detect danger from afar, and eventually find his way back to civilization. It certainly came in handy as his ears perked up, now trained on the sound of what was most definitely feet on the roof.

"Yes, I hear it," he conceded, once more becoming confused, "who is it?"

"I dunno," Ranma answered in an annoyed fashion, "I don't recognize the footsteps. Maybe Mousse or Shampoo?"

"Mousse or Shampoo? No, the sound is much too heavy, like boots," Ryoga supplied, his eyes now turned up towards the roof, where the steady *ker-klunk* could be heard with each step upon the shingles of the Tendo homestead. The pace itself was steady and assured, brimming with confidence for whatever reason; if it *were* Shampoo or Mousse, Shampoo would either be on a bicycle or skippling about happily, and Mousse would be sprinting or tripping over his own feet.

Whoever this person was, they'd never met them before, and it unsettled both Ranma and Ryoga greatly.

The heavy thunking on the roof persisted, drawing closer to the edge, where it stopped in the backyard. Ranma followed the sound, as did Ryoga; the hallway was eerily silent, apart from the steps on the rooftop, and the hitched breaths that Kuno was taking in, his nigh-frantic sobbing having calmed quite a bit. Nabiki, still kneeling by Kuno's side, looked up slightly as well, traces of confusion and suspicion apparent on her features.   
  
With a bit of hesitance, Nabiki looked over her shoulder at Ranma, the same sort of questioning look still shown. By now, Kuno had quieted down enough, and he too turned his tear-streaked gaze upwards.   
  
The rhythm of the feet was steady and frustatingly slow, at something of a languid, strolling pace. Their heavy shoes - boots? - klunked along, ever walking towards the porch door.   
  
Ranma bit her lip, hearing the quiet shuffle of familiar feet as Ryoga stood beside her; the red haired girl looked over to the fanged boy, who nodded in return, a serious expression on his face.   
  
Together they walked forward, maneuvering around where Kuno and Nabiki were still crouched; Ranma did her best to ignore Kuno and not look at the older boy's face, feeling a sense of guilt flood her system. Biting her lip hard and quelling these feelings, she continued on, hers and Ryoga's steps much lighter and quicker compared to those of the unknown guest's atop the roof. Ranma looked determinedly at the closed patio doors, while Ryoga nervously glanced from the ceiling, to the two people behind him, to Ranma, and to the doors.

  
  
  
  


The three sets of footsteps fell into something of a euphonous rhythm - where one step fell short, another, perhaps softer, perhaps heavier footfall picked up. In this manner, all three headed for the obstacle and goal of the doors, perfectly in sync.

It was for this reason that the staccato *tap-tap-tap* of socked feet hurrying down the wooden staircase nearby was so easily heard, even in the hallway, disrupting the tense beat of the steps. Akane Tendo hurried down the walkway to the foyer, her face a mixture of concern and deeply rooted annoyance.

"Ranma!" she called, managing to walk right past the joined hall to her left, where her s-named fiancee was presently. "What was all that noise from before about?"

Her concentration destroyed, Ranma whirled her head around at the sound of the far too familiar voice. She watched as Akane backtracked to the hallway in which said commotion had taken place only moments before. Almost immediately, the short-haired girl could sense the nigh-palpable tension within the vicinity of the hallway.

"Ranma, what's-?" she began to ask, her confused gaze switching between the pigtailed martial artist and the rest of those present. By this time, both Nabiki and Kuno had stood up, Nabiki looking her over her shoulder at her little sister.

"Shh," Nabiki said quietly, raising her index finger first to her lips, then to the roof. As such, Akane's stare was directed up to the ceiling, where the steady thunking of feet made itself apparent to the newest occupant of the hallway. Her eyebrows creased in questioning, and again she looked at her sister for an answer. In return, Nabiki shrugged her shoulders and slightly raised her hands, showing she knew just as much as her younger sister did about the situation.

Ranma sighed, getting her mind back on track; turning around, Ranma and Ryoga continued to the sliding paper doors that led to the backyard porch. They - aforementioned unnamed footsteps included - were nearly there.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Ranma finally found herself within arm's length of the door's handle, feeling the tension mounting in the hallway, nearly electric in its intensity; deafening silence allowed her to hear her heartbeat in her ears. She reached out, her hand grasping onto the jutted, wooden panel of the door - the moment she did this, the footfalls on the roof stopped. Ranma paused for a very brief moment; the red-haired girl looked up at the bandana'd boy who, after glancing back at Akane and blushing a small bit, caught Ranma's stare, blue eyes locking with brown. Biting his lip, he nodded.

With determination and morbid curiosity fastened onto her brain like a straightjacket, Ranma quickly opened the door, her heart a jackhammer in her chest. With a hard 'thunk', the door slammed into its slot in the wall, presenting Ranma with. . .

. . . nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a damned thing.

Feeling as if she had been greatly let down, Ranma furrowed her eyebrows, glancing slightly to her left at Ryoga, who bore an expression similar to that of a child who had recently found out Santa Clause wasn't real. Sighing, Ranma took a step forward, cool air enveloping her body as she did so.

The pigtailed girl looked around, even upwards; nothing to be seen on the deck, the backyard, or the rooftop, from her perspective. Listening closely, she could hear no evidence of a person; the footsteps had ceased completely, and the night was as quiet as a tomb. She allowed her eyes to scan the distance slowly; the far-off stars and moon, the grass, the koi pond.

The face that suddenly appeared millimeters from her nose.

With a cry of surprise, Ranma jumped and stumbled back, feeling adrenaline course freely through her veins. The face simply smiled.

"Guten Tag!" he greeted cheerily enough, continuing to look at Ranma through dusky grey eyes, his pale skin standing out against the dark of the night.

All present in the hallway stared at the man standing on the porch of the Tendo backyard, the sound of his lightly-accented voice filtering through the air. He didn't move, his body clad entirely in black; black, loose pants, black, contrastingly form-fitted shirt with a collar that covered half his neck, black, leather boots that looked rather heavy yet stylishly affordable, and a dramatic, black trench coat. It billowed slightly in the wind, however the top part of it seemed to be weighted down by something (perhaps more than one something) inside. He took a step forward, muscles rippling under the demi-tight shirt he wore; he raised his hand in a show of peace, still smiling. Moonlight glinted off the mop of brown hair that sat atop his head as he did so.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything important," he said, glancing around the hallway and at the people inside it, "and I certainly hope I did not scare anyone." He looked rather meaningfully at Ranma with his last remark, which bristled the boy-turned-girl something fierce.

"You didn't scare me, whoever the hell you are," Ranma stated, crossing her arms over her chest. There was something decidedly not right about the German man who had just entered the Tendo abode quite unexpectedly - the fact that Ranma couldn't detect him outside was, in and of itself, something of a significant threat.

"You are right fraülein, how very rude of me," the rather handsome man said, laughing good naturedly and patting Ranma on the head, which pissed her right off. Taking another step towards the group of people and completely ignoring the growling sound that had issued from Ranma's throat, everyone in turn stepped back - except, of course, for Ranma. Now fully inside Chez Tendo, the German man smiled once more, which was at once unsettling and strangely captivating, much in the sense a car wreck is.

"My name is Marc Sänger, and I am looking for someone," the man, now known to the rest of them as Marc, said. He bowed slightly.

"Who is it you're looking for?" Ryoga asked warily, really not liking the disturbing sort of aura he exhumed within the hallway; glancing over, the lost boy saw Ranma herself stepping back slightly as well, scrutinizing him. Something was really not right about him. . .

The man was currently digging in his trench coat, cursing in German under his breath. After a few moments of searching, he looked quite proud with himself when he took a small piece of paper out of his black coat, holding it in his hand. Unfolding it, Marc squinted at the name scribbled onto it.

"One Tatewaki Kuno, I believe," he said, looking up at the group expectantly. Ranma blinked, turning her head around to face where Kuno was looking at the man, his eyes widened slightly. Nobody said a word, and Marc's face fell somewhat.

"Tatewaki Kuno? Damn, did I get the wrong house? I was given this address," he explained, holding up the piece of paper as if a testament to the fact it was not his mistake. Snapped out of whatever sort of shocked state he was in, Kuno cleared his throat.

"I am Tatewaki Kuno," the kendoist said, staring at Marc, confused as to why a strange German man wearing all black would have anything to do with him. Immediately, Marc's smile returned to his face, and he let out a short laugh.

"Good, I was getting worried that I would have to shoot everybody in case I was wrong. Witnesses, you see," he explained, walking towards Kuno, his trench coat swishing with his movements, breezing right passed a shocked looking Ranma and Ryoga. Feeling unnerved with every step closer that the black-clad man took towards him, Kuno found his breath catching in his throat as a distinct aura of coldness radiated off of Marc, becoming more overwhelming the closer he came. 

Before Kuno could even blink, there the man was, right in front of him; his smile from before was gone, replaced with an almost smug grin, staring at him, cold, steel eyes against frightened cobalt.

"We have your sister."

Immediately Kuno's eyes widened, gaping incredulously at the man, standing so calmly before him. He felt many emotions filter through his being, the most prevalent being *anger*. The man, smiling so casually in front of him, had hurt his Kocchi. . . he had taken her away, leaving nothing behind but broken furniture and bloodstains on everything, making him feel sick to his stomach! Kuno felt his hands clench beside him, his face contorting into a visage of righteous anger, a growl welling up in the back of his throat. Marc began to speak once more, looking as if he was enjoying the torrid of emotions playing across the boy's face.

"Now, listen to me carefully, and-"

"You BASTARD!" Tatewaki cried out, beginning to charge forward, his fists balled and ready to strike his face. This was when Marc, who had been standing quite languidly in front of him, moved in what looked to be a veritable blur. Before Kuno could even figure out what was happening, he heard a yelp from beside him; quickly he turned his body to face where the sound was coming from, unable to understand where Marc had gone so quickly.

His answer was now in front of him. There was Marc, still with the smile on his face; however, now he held Nabiki in a tight choke-hold with his left arm, squeezing her neck slightly, her body directly in front of his. Marc's other hand held a large, silver gun, which was resting against the side of Nabiki's head. Everyone in the hallway made similar sounds of gasped shock upon seeing this.

"Nabiki!" Akane cried out, her hands immediately moving over her mouth, eyes wide with surprise and most likely fear. Ranma and Ryoga ran towards where Nabiki and Marc were, both bearing expressions of alarm on their faces. Kuno stood in front of the both of them, drinking in the situation and not liking the taste one bit; he looked at Nabiki, whose lips were parted slightly in shock, gasping for air as Marc's hold on her neck became much too tight.

"Really now," Marc said, tsk tsk-ing at Kuno, his smirk deadly, "how very impudent of you. I must say that I do not like impudence."

"Let her go!!" Kuno demanded, his eyes wide with obvious terror, which wasn't terribly comforting to Nabiki. Marc simply clicked the safety off the gun.

"I do not want to," he stated, "and besides, now I have your attention, ja? Much easier on me." Nabiki, whose hands hand gone up to Marc's arm around her neck, was trying to pry it off, struggling for air, her face turning a disconcerting shade of blue. Ranma, deciding that this was quite enough, tensed her body to spring forward, already in a battle stance. It was one thing to sneak past her detection, but to come in and threaten somebody's life like that?! Gritting her teeth in determination and tightening her muscles to spring forward, Ranma suddenly heard a metal click, followed by a horrendous boom that sounded like thunder. She felt a quick burst of air fly by her cheek, accompanied by an intense stinging sensation on her cheek.

Looking up, Ranma saw Marc replacing a now-smoking gun against Nabiki's head. Ranma's fingers found their way to her stinging cheek, feeling wetness on them; bringing her fingers back in front of her face to inspect them, she saw blood dripping down them. Behind her was a bullet hole in the wall.

"Fraülein, that hole will be in your forehead if you attempt something like that again," Marc stated, his eyes now having hardened considerably. Quickly, he shifted his gaze back to Kuno.

"Now. Listen to me carefully, or you shall force me to shoot this rather pretty girl here. I have no immediate desire to, but I will if you attempt something stupid." Kuno's muscles immediately froze up, his breathing becoming shallow and quick; all other eyes in the room had their attention on Marc, who looked rather pleased with himself.

"Good, then. As I said Tatewaki Kuno, we have your sister. Now, normally we are not as careful as this in making sure the message is delivered - we had to make sure to tell you in person, in this case, for fear of the message somehow not being received on your end. However, yours is a rather special circumstance." Kuno grit his teeth, wanting to throttle the German man's neck for having such a damned light tone in his voice.

"What is it you want, then?" the kendoist asked, slowly and deliberately, glaring daggers at Marc, feeling powerless. In turn, Marc tilted his head slightly, smiling at Kuno.

"You, of course."

He stared at the man in front of him, his face a visage of barely registered shock. With his lips slightly parted, and his unblinking eyes widening, staring at the armed man's smirking face, Kuno could find no words in his immediate syntax that would at once wrap around his feelings and the growing intensity in the room. He managed to move his mouth somewhat, however all he was able to utter was an unidentifiable noise of question and shock, something like a hybrid between "ah!" and "uh?".

"A cunning response if there ever was one," Marc stated dryly, the blasted smile still present on his pale features. He then went on to laugh slightly, looking appraisingly at Kuno's form, hugging a bit tighter onto Nabiki's neck, the cool barrel of the gun still pressed firmly against her head.

"Well, if this is all that we can hope to expect from you, then I must say that our investments were quite for naught. Of course, this is my opinion," Marc said, pausing for a moment in his sentence, a touch of mania tainting his smirk. "Then again, I *am* the man holding the gun, so I suppose it counts for more, ja?" He laughed in the way that a polite businessman would at a horrible joke his boss just told. It took all that Kuno had to stop himself from attempting to tear that wicked grin off his face, and risk harming everyone, and potentially killing Nabiki. Swallowing hard, the kendoist shook himself from his stupor, glaring at Marc.

"What do you want me for?" he ground out, his eyes flashing over to Nabiki's face, which was uncharacteristically frightened. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Kuno desperately tried to communicate to Nabiki with his thoughts that everything was going to be alright. This certainly did not go unnoticed by Marc, who clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"Is that really such an important question?" he asked Kuno, his tone obviously that of mockery, "Think about it for a second. We have kidnaped your sister, and it is really not a pleasant experience for her; currently, I have a loaded gun pressed against this lovely little thing's temple - and you want to know *why*? Would you not rather know *how* to get your sister back, and *how* to stop me from pulling the trigger here and splattering this girl's blood all over the wall? Really, you must straighten out your priorities."

Kuno balled his fists by his sides, hating the fact that Marc was outright taunting him, knowing full well there was absolutely nothing he could do - Kuno refused to let his own stupid pride take someone's life. Biting down on his tongue to quell the slew of insults that threatened to rise from his throat, the brown haired boy looked steadily at the German man, still holding the gun firmly against Nabiki's head. Marc arched an eyebrow.

"Well? Do you wish to know, or shall I just kill her now?" His thumb moved over the hammer of the gun, pulling it back, clicking audibly in the hallway.

"No!" Kuno exclaimed, reaching his hand out, his palm open, eyes wide with fear, "No. Tell me how." His voice was as steady as he could make it, his breath shallow. Marc continued to smile, letting out a short laugh.

"Good, we're getting somewhere. Now maybe I will be back in time for Oprah - I believe Dr. Phil is on tonight, miracle workers that they are. Have you ever watched that show? I adore her book club, shame it ended," Marc said, still smiling away as if it was okay to be discussing the wonders of the Oprah Winfrey show whilst pressing a colt magnum against the temple of a relatively helpless teenaged girl.

"What was that about straightening out priorities?" Kuno muttered, looking darkly at the trench-coated man, severely not appreciating the fact that he was rambling on about some foreign show he had vaguely heard of. In turn, Marc's smile turned into something that could be considered genuine contentment.

"A sharp wit. Perhaps you are salvageable after all," he commented, tilting his head slightly, the analyzing look back in his steel-grey eyes. "Alright then. I shall tell you how to straighten out this mess that you are in, ja?" Tatewaki simply nodded in return, keeping his face cautiously expressionless.

"You have four days; do with them as you like, for it is precious little time. At the end of the allotted duration, you will have had to come to the decision of whether or not your sister's life is worthy of yours."

"What do you mean?" Kuno asked, a touch of fury squeezing through the confines of his mind and into the intonation of his voice. Rather than being angered by this, Marc looked at Kuno in a not too dissimilar manner a father would look at his child - that would be condescending and smug.

"I mean that, kleiner junge, you shall come with us, or she will die. It is not a hard concept to understand." Once again, the kendoist's eyes widened in mute shock and horror, forcing himself to look steadfastly at Marc, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach. Marc smiled again.

"The meeting place shall be at the vacant lot, nearest your high school, and I do hope for your sake that you know where it is. Be there for 11 p.m. sharp, and come alone," he instructed Kuno, looking over meaningfully at girl-type Ranma, who glared at him in return. Quickly brushing her aside, the man with the gun looked back over to Kuno, his unremitting smile on his face.

"My job here is now done. I shall be off for now, but I do look forward to seeing you in four days' time, Tatewaki." He removed the gun from Nabiki's head, beginning to loosen his grip. He bent his head down slightly, his arm still around her neck, speaking softly into her ear. 

"Danke, fraülein, for being so very good about all this. I am proud of you, you did not even cry. Much better than other girls I have dealt with," he said. Nabiki couldn't stop herself from shuddering involuntarily as the words passed from his lips to her ear. Somewhere, in the back of her somewhat numbed mind, she realized something.

He wasn't breathing when he spoke the words to her.

By the time Marc had let go of her neck, Nabiki barely had time to watch as the man who had previously held her at gunpoint was gone, merely a blur to the eyes. Quick as lightning and quiet as a mouse, the door to the patio was opened, chilly night air gusting into the hallway.

He was gone within the blink of an eye. Registering all this, Nabiki couldn't help herself from sinking to the floor in complete and utter shock.

  
  


*=*=*

  
  
  
  


She cradled her in her arms, rocking her back and forth; the rough mats of the floor and the warm blood spilled on it caressed her legs as she held the girl in her arms, with one hand stroking her hair with long, red fingernails. Her other hand scratched along the girl's back, leaving four long, red streaks in the wake of her fingers on her flesh, digging into the soft tissue of her skin. She could feel that she was far too weak to be able to resist anything she had done, was doing, and was no doubt soon to do, and it pleased the woman holding her greatly.

Her Pretty was such a lovely, perfect toy, and now she was holding her close, breathing in her distinct scent. The hand petting her black, beautiful hair now pushed it off her shoulder, where it had been drenched in blood. Crimson stood out brightly against the younger girl's pale skin; it covered her neck and shoulder, running down her bare arms and chest; enticed by this, Kurai lowered her face to it, beginning to suck on the existing blood and bite into the flesh of her neck, sucking out more of it, much like a vampire. Kodachi emitted a small whimper, her vocal chords hoarse from all the screaming she had been doing. Kurai's hands wandered, feeling on her Pretty the cuts, lacerations, and various bruises that littered her body; her eyes were half open in numb shock, unable to fight back any more, her body in far too much pain to function properly.

Kurai loved it. She loved playtime with her Pretty. She loved how she looked; so beaten and used on the floor; she loved how she smelled, fear mixed with blood and pure innocence; she loved how she felt, so satiny and virgin against her needy fingers; she loved how she sounded, her screams, whimpers, and pleas loud in the small box of her cell. But most of all, she loved how she *tasted*. Gods, her blood was so intoxicating and rich, and it was something of a drug to the ninja woman; she was addicted to how her Pretty tasted, and the young girl was all hers. It sent shivers up her spine, and she clutched her tighter.

She knew that Pretty's time with her would soon be up. Naomi had sent that lapdog Marc of hers out to inform Alpha Pandora of how he was supposed to retrieve the perfection that was so harshly cradled in Kurai's arms. She didn't want to give her Pretty back to him; no, she had taken her, she was *hers*, and no one else's now. Pretty rightfully belonged to her. She removed her fangs from Kodachi's neck, licking and kissing upwards to her ear, and then across her bloodstained cheek. 

"I will not let you go, Pretty," Kurai whispered to the girl who shook uncontrollably in her arms, tears freely coursing down her cheeks, though she had not the energy to move or say anything otherwise to her captor. Moving her one hand up to Kodachi's chin, she forced it to tilt upwards, Kurai pulling back to look into her Pretty's eyes. She knew Pretty could see her very well. She knew it.

"You are mine."

Bowing her head down to her Pretty's, Kurai desperately pressed her lips against Kodachi's, her fangs sinking into her bottom lip, blood trickling down her Pretty's chin and neck, splashing against Kurai's chest. Tears coursed of Kodachi's eyes, falling uselessly down her cheeks as Kurai began the process of violating her body once more. 

Closing her eyes, Kurai sighed into her Pretty's mouth, pushing her lips against Kodachi's harder. This was what Kurai wanted. This was what she was going to have. Her Pretty belonged to her, and her alone. No one would take her away.

No one.

  
  
  
  


~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Whee, chapter shortness once again. ^^; Forgiveness for that. I'm tired, and I really did wish to finish this. You can't blame me. 

WHOO! EXAMS ARE DONE!! *does a merry jig*

. . . anyhoo, I wrote this chapter damn fast, didn't I? Oh yeah. Kick ass. I've been stepping up on writing production recently, and I hope the result is up to par with what you've come to know of Pandora, in all its angsty and bloody glory. Fun, ain't it?

Welp, reviews appreciated and encouraged as always. Ooh, lucky number 13 is up next! ^_~

  
  


~Chibikat 

  
  
  
  


  


  
  



	13. Reconciliations

Disclaimer: There comes a time in every person's life when they're forced to sort of stop, look around, and wonder what the hell they're doing with their life. For some, it is a brief, passing moment. For others, it lasts the rest of their natural born lives. Me? Heh, I'm too far gone to care in this stage of the game. Boo ya.

  
  


. . . that was rather pointless. o_O I don't own these characters - as for the villains, Naomi is mostly owned by friend named, egads, NAOMI, and I own as much of Marc as I can get aroused. Other villains. . . yeah. . . they're mine. God they're messed. Just like me. =D

  
  


Rating: Of course I'm keeping the whole thing R for obvious reasons. I mean, really. 

  
  


Author's Notes: It just occurred to me that I really should be doing these note thingies at the END of the chapter. Well, aren't I intelligent. Eh-hyeh, ahm uh hi skool stewdint, an ahm smurt!!!!!!11111

  
  


. . . dear gods, I promise to never to that again. o_o;

  
  


Anyhoo, semester two has now officially started, and egads it's heavier than first semester. XD; However, if my past habits have proven anything, it's that I work faster under such busy pressures. So hey. Not too shabby. BTW, Ch. 12 was horrendous, what with the spelling errors and whatnot. I know, you know, we all know, cats and dogs living together, it's anarchy. I'll try to be more careful in the future. ^^;

  
  


Welp, my crappy-ass spelling aside, here for you, now showing on servers and monitors everywhere is. . .

  
  


~*~

  
  


~*Pandora*~

  
  


~*~

  
  


She felt numbness swamp her as she stared blankly at an unseen point on the floor, eyes wide. Her breathing was unsteady and shallow, adrenaline coursing freely through her veins, feeling light-headed which, consequently, also made her feel dizzy. Swallowing dryly, she put a minutely shaking hand to her temple, where the unforgivably cold barrel of the man's gun had been pressed; she thought that maybe she could still feel it against her head, that weapon that the man had.

It was then that one, rather disturbing thought managed to pierce through the numb shock that had encompassed her body - with one little move of his finger backwards, she could have been dead. Dead. Just like that. Nabiki swallowed dryly, running her shaking hand through her hair, expelling her shuddering breath; around this time, she recognized a shadow draping her form, and the fact that someone had just come up beside her, however she really didn't care at the moment.

Nabiki was forcibly startled out of her state of apathetic shock at the sensation of strong, warm hands on her shoulders. With a small gasp of surprise, Nabiki looked up at whoever had touched her, her mahogany eyes uncharacteristically wide; there right in front of her, with his fingers lightly clutching onto her shoulders, was Kuno. His face was a visage of concern, the boy's eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Nabiki, are you alright?" he asked her, his voice sounding quite a bit like silk flowing over an ocean current. Cobalt eyes met chocolate brown ones, trying to see if the girl on the floor would be, indeed, alright. Biting her lip and tearing her gaze from his, she sighed wearily, nodding her head after a prolonged period of time.

"Yeah," she managed to squeak out, the word sounding more pathetic out loud than it did even in her mind, "Yes, I'm alright." Though Kuno didn't believe her for an instant, he let it slide for now.

Nabiki closed her eyes, trying to shut out all the distractions surrounding her. Ranma was arguing with Ryoga about being able to stop the man who had just escaped (Ranma said he could catch him, Ryoga was telling him that they should wait, etc.), and Akane had just hurried beside Nabiki, nearly pushing Kuno out of the way in her haste, asking Nabiki if she was okay; Nabiki responded much in the same fashion to Akane as she did to Kuno, with a quick 'yes'.

"Will you be okay to stand? Do you need any help?" Kuno inquired, worry obviously evident in his grey eyes.

"No, I should be alright," she murmured, beginning to get up. Obligingly, Kuno removed his hands from Nabiki's shoulders, and she couldn't help but regret it somewhat. Sure, it would be much easier just to let Kuno pick her up like some damsel in distress, but... well, that wasn't Nabiki Tendo. No, she was doing this on her own, loss of bodily warmth or not.

So she began to stand. Nabiki certainly wasn't counting on the fact her legs would feel quite a bit like a wobbly Jello mold gone horribly wrong. This did not go unnoticed by Kuno, who once again queried as to if Nabiki was alright or not, to which she responded:

"Anh-!" Her once trusty legs, which were now devoid of all trust in Nabiki's mind, had given out on her, causing her to fall forward. She would've hit the wooded floors of the hallway and been in a substantial amount of pain, if not for the fact that Kuno was standing in front of her. Right into his arms she fell, her head resting against his flat, muscled chest, his strong arms encircling her waist, semi-hugging her to him. Once again, the back, nether-regions of her mind churned with mixed thoughts, some of which concerning how nice it felt to be held by him. If she could, Nabiki would've slapped herself silly, possibly with some sort of blunt instrument.

"Nabiki!" he called out, distress obvious in his voice. He looked down at her, his arms safely around her waist, noting that she really wasn't making a move to get up anytime in the near future. To Kuno, this signaled something was terribly wrong.

"Nabiki, are you sure you are not hurt?" he questioned, his voice much more frantic than it was before. Nabiki, however, lifted her head, looked up at Kuno, and arched her eyebrow in a fashion that both relieved and somewhat annoyed the boy holding her.

"Only my image is wounded," she replied, beginning to force herself out of Kuno's surprisingly comfortable embrace. Nodding in compliance, with a small sigh he withdrew his arms from around her form, allowing her to stand on her own. She looked down again, closing her eyes, resting a hand on her forehead; her nerves were still badly shaken, but now was not the time to show this. Even as that Marc person had said, they had to sort through the priorities first. Which meant. . .

"Kuno, what in hell is going on?" she asked quietly, almost mumbling the words. Her previous warm-and-fuzzy-feelings of being in the arms of Nerima's resident idiot (which, really, was a spectacular feat, considering all the idiots who lived in Nerima) were completely obliterated by the tiny, little fact that a scary man with serious Gothic issues apparent in the form of a black trench coat had pressed a gun to her head mere minutes before.

Kuno stood there, staring down at Nabiki, his mind screaming at him to formulate an answer; his jaw and lips seemed to be working, but his tongue was refusing to produce any sort of coherent sound. Desperately, he too wished he understood what was happening to him and those around him.

It was around this time that a worried Kasumi, stricken Soun Tendo, and a groggy panda bear entered into the hallway; the Tendo patriarch looked about ready to go into full-fledged panic attack mode, which was not a pretty thing to be forced to behold.

"What's going on? I heard shouting, then someone swore, and then - oh my gods, is that a bullet hole in my wall?!" Mr. Tendo shouted, his eyes as wide as bowling balls as he beheld a small, somewhat smoking hole in the plaster of the hallway wall. Kasumi gasped, looking at everyone in the immediate vicinity, trying to make sure that no one was hurt.

"Is everyone alright? What happened?" she asked, an underlying tone of urgency present in her characteristically soft voice.

"We're all okay," Akane assured her older sister; her father was still staring at the gun hole in the wall, whimpering disturbingly, still unsure of what to make of it. Something clicked in the back of her mind, cheerfully reminding her that regular, old-fashioned nuclear families did not have a nineteen year old, unmarried girl as the resident matriarch to take care of unstable adults and/or younger siblings. She didn't think much of it."

"Then what happened?" Kasumi gently prodded, wringing her hands together against her apron. Ranma-chan turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder at Kuno rather meaningfully. The kendoist, feeling the presence of eyes on his body, glanced up to see the Pigtailed Girl staring intently at him, as if awaiting an answer herself to Kasumi's question. Kuno, his hands trembling minutely from the adrenaline rush of moments before, forced his eyes away from the red haired girl's face - indeed, now that he was consciously looking, all eyes were on him, expecting some sort of response.

He closed his eyes, hating the stares of all those around him; with his head slightly bowed, he attempted to formulate an answer - somehow, saying 'A strange German man with a gun broke in to tell me he has my sister and wants me instead' sounded unbelievable and vaguely homoerotic.

"I. . ." Kuno sighed softly, feeling defeated before the fight had even begun.

"I do not know." His voice was eked out rather pathetically as the boy shifted his gaze upwards; Kasumi held the same expression of bemused worry, Soun's eyebrows were furrowed in thought, the panda had... wandered off somewhere...

His red haired goddess no longer bore her previous expression of loathsome scathing, but was obviously still wary of Kuno, watching every move he made. Kuno could feel his heart slowly being ripped in two because of this. Ryoga was keeping his own eye on the girl, but was also glancing back at Kuno periodically, with what could be interpreted as sympathy in his eyes; Akane looked outright confused, and Nabiki...

...as always, her expression was unreadable. She was observing Kuno, but he couldn't tell at all what it was she was thinking or feeling. Biting down hard on his lip, he found himself almost staring at Nabiki, as if trying to persuade her to think of him as not guilty, as it were, with just his penetrating gaze. He found no such assurance.

"I should go," Kuno said, his voice disturbingly monotone as he tore his eyes from Nabiki's unflinching face, quickly padding away from sight. Silence descended upon the group. Nabiki watched as Kuno left down the adjacent hall, and she debated in her mind whether or not to follow him.

"We can't just let him go," Ranma stated, crossing her arms over her ample chest; while it was true she still looked cautious, she no longer had the same sort of menace as before on her pretty features. Of course, she wasn't about to move any time soon, either.

All eyes, in all their unanimous shifting, now targeted one Nabiki Tendo, who was looking down the hall Kuno had just passed down. Feeling the presence of numerous gazes on her, she looked over her shoulder - indeed, everyone residing in the Tendo abode was looking at her. Nabiki blinked.

"And no one else is capable of walking down the hallway? Akane, you go talk to him. You know how he feels about you," Nabiki said, arching an eyebrow as she leaned against the wall. Needless to say, Nabiki was curious about the situation, however she felted quite pep-talked out for the night.

"Well it was your idea to bring here in the first place," Akane reminded her older sister, looking evenly at Nabiki, "and you deal with him better - he's never wanted to be all over you, it'd be easier for you." Nabiki found her left eye twitched slightly at her younger sister's statement, though it went unnoticed by her terribly unobservant family. Sighing, she shook her head.

"I just think he would rather listen to you is all, Akane." 'Another sad part of the patented Kuno!Brand© logic,' she thought. The brunette turned to direct her gaze at Ranma, in all her girl-type glory.

"Of course, you could always talk to him. That is, unless you kill him instead." Nabiki shrugged. "But either way works, doesn't it Ranma?" Sarcasm oozed from her voice like venom.

"Nabiki..." Ranma breathed out irritably, glaring at the middle Tendo daughter with a hint of disdain. She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight off the wall, standing fully.

"It was a joke, easy tiger," she said, sarcasm pulled taught in her vocal chords as she held up her hands in a sign of defense. "Fine, I'm voted off the island. I'll go talk to our resident psychopath."

With her last statement, she shot a meaningful glare at Ranma, and then proceeded to make her way down the same hall Kuno had passed through but moments before. Her feet, still in her fuzzy blue slippers, padded soundlessly down the wooded hallway, her breath coming out in a shaky sigh; Nabiki hated to admit it to herself, but even now, the little fiasco with that German man (Marc, was it?) still had her quite shaken up.

She expelled another unsteady breath, pausing her walking in the hallway for a moment - the entire situation, she felt, seemed utterly ludicrous, if not morbidly so. While it was true that Nerima was a hotbed of oddities, the unbelievable had become a rather... well, believable fixture over the waning months. In fact, it was very close to a year since Ranma had showed up at the porch of the Tendo home in his busty lady form, with his (her, she corrected internally) panda father. That, while strange at the time, had now become a mere staple of normality.

This? No. This was extraordinary; this was a shock of reality, piercing through the bubble world that was Nerima and a select few residing within said dome. Martial arts were violent, granted, but Nabiki had grown up with it. There was an honour code, and it promoted discipline, fairness, and in some instances, even peace. Today, a man had threatened to kill her with a gun, just because she was there. Nabiki had nearly forgotten how much she despised reality.

Before she knew it, she found herself in the not-so-grand foyer of her home; Nabiki stopped by the staircase, watching the boy before her. He had a duffel bag slung over one of his broad shoulders, and he was currently heading for the front door. Nabiki cleared her throat.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked, her arms crossed. Kuno jumped slightly, before freezing in his movements. His head snapped up at hearing the familiar, droll tone; he looked over his shoulder at Nabiki, and his surprise quickly faded to a look of dull resignation.

"I am obviously not welcome here, therefore I am leaving," he stated, making surprisingly logical sense. Well, according to him, at least.

"Well gee, no offense Kuno-baby, but it's not as if that's never stopped you before." Kuno sighed, irritation evident on his features; he dimly accepted the fact that Nabiki's patronizing tone was making his bottom lip want to tremble, and he felt about ready for another breakdown, if only he had the energy.

"Nabiki..." he breathed out in warning, however it was rather obvious that the girl was not in the least bit intimidated. She smirked, but it felt strained.

"Give me the real reason you're talking off. Wait..." she began, tilting her head, "I already know why." He let out a short, soft laugh, and his hand unconsciously tightened around the strap of his bag.

"Heh. Of course you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He simply sneered.

"I figured you, of all people, would know."

Sucking a bit on her lower lip, she looked straight at the kendoist, their gazes leveled. Feeling oddly vexed, she quietly huffed out her breath.

"Kuno-baby, just stay," she said simply, as the boy began to turn away. Nabiki could practically hear the sarcastic smile in his voice as he spoke, turning his head a bit to take a good, long look at her.

"What am I, Nabiki Tendo? Your dog? Do you really think I would remain here simply because you asked me to?" She huffed at this, her toes curling within her slippers as whatever semblance of a smile vanished from her face.

She closed her eyes - she was not going to lose her temper. She was not. It would be terribly unproductive at this juncture in time, anyway.

"No. I know you wouldn't if I commanded you, as you put it. You don't work that way." She paused. "I'm just making a suggestion, because your other options aren't looking too pretty."

"Feh. And what of my other options?" he asked sardonically, turning his head in an impudent fashion, being flippant in tone and hair. Nabiki kept a level gaze.

"It's here, your house, or the streets. You'd be eaten alive out on the streets of Tokyo at night, rich boy - maybe you'd be picked up by one of those nice men, if you know what I mean. Then," she said, leaning against the side of the stairs, "your house is sort of blocked off by the police, isn't it? What with all the blood." Kuno flinched at this, looking down. Nabiki felt pity flutter inside of her momentarily, and her voice softened.

"Or you could stay here until we figure all this out, because believe it or not, I want to help you. I hate seeing you like this," she nearly whispered, running a hand through her hair. Something inside Nabiki screamed at her for making such a confession, but she squashed that tiny, shallow voice. Kuno faltered for but a moment before he scoffed.

"And what makes you think," he began, turning to look at Nabiki, his voice somewhat hollow, "that I, the great Tatewaki Ku-"  
  
"Would you stop being a stubborn bastard for once?" she half yelled at him, feeling a bit of embarrassment welling up inside of her from what she had said before. However, before she could say anything caustic, she remembered to take into consideration the situation they were in, and that she was trying to help, for once. The normally apathetic girl strode up to Kuno, looking up at him, mentally damning his statuesque tallness.

"You're upset, worried, and you''re afraid, Kuno-baby. And before you even ask, no, I'm not making fun of you, because I'd be even more worried if you weren't feeling those things - and yeah, I am worried. Something serious and painful has happened to you, and it's no use trying to pretend everything's fine now, because it isn't. I… I know what it''s like to lose someone." She exhaled her breath softly, her deep, chocolate brown eyes closing for a moment, trying to will away the memories of her mother that invariably came back to her.  
  
"Nabiki…?"  
  
"Do you really think running away like this will help to get your sister back?" she asked, her voice sounding more choked than she would've liked. Bravely, she opened her eyes, and looked right back at him, feeling her threatening tears dispersing, managing to will them away. "She needs your help, and in order for that to happen, you have to let me help you first."  
  
Nabiki continued to look up at Kuno, tearing her thoughts away from more dangerous, emotional territory by observing Tatewaki's reactions. He stared back down at her, his lips slightly parted, his eyes widened a bit in shock as he digested what Nabiki had said and the way she was acting. Swallowing dryly, his fingers slacked, almost ashamedly, around the straps of his bag, and he turned his face to look at the duffel slung to his side. His wide shoulders minutely fell, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, which swiftly gave birth to shame.

"Warriors aren''t supposed to run," he murmured under his breath, cloudy gaze turned downwards. They booth stood silently for a moment; Nabiki bit her lip in worry when it didn't look as if Kuno was going to speak any time soon.  
  
"Kuno-baby…?" she prodded, feeling the roles had reversed from just moments before. She did want to fill the void that was quietness, and yet, he still didn't speak.

"Kuno, you are a warrior, okay? But warriors also have to plan and think, and adapt. That's what separates them from the idiots who're just fighters." Nabiki wasn't necessarily a warrior or a 'fighter' herself - but she was an observer. She knew the difference; like how Genma was a practicing fighter for all that was sloth and ignorance, and his son… as much as she hated to admit it most of the time, yes, Ranma was a warrior. She could see the qualities of a warrior in both Ranma and the boy before her, and though said qualities were made blind behind Kuno''s many and varied façades, they were there.

They were just hidden.

The silence came to a close as Kuno lifted his head, and removed the bag from his shoulders, gently placing it on the ground. He stared into her eyes.

"I shall stay, Nabiki."  
  
~*~  
  
Ironically enough, Kuno ended up sleeping with Ranma that night. Of course, this was in the purely non-sexual sense; however, with all the tossing, turning, and generally moving about that Ranma did in his sleep, he and Kuno could very well have gotten to third base without being consciously aware of it.

Neither boy had seemed terribly happy at the idea of being forced to share the same bedroll, but there was no other way -- the Tendos did not have any more extra cots, and sharing a bed with any of the girls was simply out of the question (though Nabiki had teasingly offered, to which Kuno had to quickly run to the bathroom for 'personal business'). Sharing a bed with Soun and Genma felt somehow illegal as well.

This left the option of bedding (with) either Ryoga or Ranma. Kuno immediately chose Ryoga, but as luck would have it, Ryoga's old sleeping bag could barely fit the nomad inside of it, never mind a rather tall and broad-shouldered young man. Ranma privately asked Ryoga why he couldn't just change into P-Chan, hop on the good hoof and sleep in Akane's bed, leaving his sleeping bag open for Kuno. Ryoga cryptically replied that Kuno and Ranma needed to kiss and make up.

Whatever that meant.

So there they were, in the dark, mostly asleep. The night was filled with the heavy snores of a panda-fied Genma, and the steady, almost rhythmic breathing of both Ryoga and Ranma; Ranma's one arm had managed to sprawl and drape itself over Kuno''s chest, any and all pretense of mistrust and suspicion seemingly lost along with consciousness.

Kuno stared up at the ceiling, unsure of whether or not he should be trying to defend his macho masculinity by shoving Ranma off of him, but he felt no such immediate need. In an odd, non-biblical way, it felt strangely nice, sharing a bed in such the way he was doing. It was true that, at first, the boy had felt mildly disgusted by the fact that he would have to share his sleeping space with anyone, mind Saotome of all people, but it had grown on him. Like a rash.

And, like a rash, it was spreading. In this case, said rash was Ranma's arm, and it was most definitely southbound. Kuno squirmed in discomfort and, careful to not wake him, pushed Ranma's busy hand safely off his chest. Ranma's eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, and he drew his hand back close to himself. He let out a deep, somewhat discontented sigh, and he rolled over onto his other side, muttering something under his breath, which most definitely ended in "oga".

Kuno's mind subconsciously forced him to not make any sort of assumptions.  
  
The kendoist rolled onto his side, his back against Ranma''s. His vision was now directed towards the sleeping Ryoga, who managed to look grievously worried, even whilst in the arms of sleep. Streams of moonlight made puddles on his hair and face, and it glowed softly against his skin. From Kuno's relatively close proximity to the lost boy, he could smell the faint wisps of campfire smoke and the unmistakable musk of leaves, trees, and dirt from the forests dotting Japan. Kuno inhaled deeply; it was a natural, almost soothing scent that would've reminded him of childhood memories of going camping if not for the fact he had never slept outdoors in his entire seventeen years of life. Ryoga shifted in his sleep, murmuring unintelligibly as he did so. The older boy closed his eyes, trying to settle against the pillow.   
  
The futon was comfortably warmed by both his and Ranma's body, and it did beckon Kuno to sleep. He could practically feel the bags forming under his eyes - all that week, he had been suffering from his normal bouts of insomnia, however it was much more intense as of late, especially with the stress of the last few days. He sighed gently, the sound swallowed up by the dark and the mellifluous breathing of the two boys on either side of him. He could feel unconsciousness tugging at his mind, and Kuno was all too willing to give into it.

As soon as this happened, a chilling sensation ran through his spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He felt suddenly trapped - he couldn't move his arms or his legs, and his breathing quickened accordingly. With his eyes closed it was completely and utterly dark; he felt himself scream, yet no sound spilled forth from his lips. His body was weighted down by something, crushing painfully against his chest and stomach, can't breath, can't breathe-!

His eyes shot open, and he took in a gulp of air, nearly choking on it. His hands shook beneath the covers, but the weight was now off of his body, and he could breathe, and that was all that mattered. Dully, he realized that he had been slowly falling into another one of his nightmares that felt all too real, and he sat up. The covers fell from his shoulders and chest, pooling around his waist. Immediately, he missed the warmth.

Sleep was not worth the horrible dreams that would entail it. Breathing out shakily, he ran his fingers through his mess of brown hair; he desperately wanted to lie back down on the cot and give into sleep and warmth, but he knew that, without fail, the horrid nightmares would follow. If the pattern were to hold true, he would probably wake up with bloodstains on himself, or gashes, or maybe he would unconsciously lash out at those in the room with him. He couldn't afford for that to happen, especially with the relatively thin line he was treading with everyone as it was.

Shivering, he pulled his yukata tightly around him - he refused to sleep anywhere near the nude with another man. Ranma, as it turned out, preferred to show skin, which didn't necessarily make Kuno uncomfortable, but… he figured it simply made sense. Ranma seemed the sort of person who wouldn't really care if one saw him naked or not, because what did he have to hide? 

Kuno glanced down at Ranma, who shifted again in his sleep. He was wearing boxers, and the older boy supposed he ought to be thankful for that, or else he would have been creeped out to no end. 

He gracefully and quietly slid out of the bed, standing to full height beside it. His form blocked some of the rays of moonlight, which now caressed his body rather than falling stagnant on to the tatami mats of the floor. His bare feet stepped softly on the ground, making his way over to the door; with equal pains taken to ensure the silent opening and closing of it, Kuno stepped out into a short, wooden hallway of the Tendo house. He walked down the corridor, his yukata swishing without sound at his calves, its dark blue colour blending in with the soft night.

Another turn left down the hall took Kuno into the Tendo living room and dining room; a TV, made opaque by the currently black screen, stared at him from the other side of the room, a few throw pillows put to good use by having been thrown somewhat haphazardly about the space of the floor. He stepped carefully around them, but managed nonetheless to trip over one of the pillows, causing him to swear under his breath, but luckily, the offending pillow did not cause the boy to fall flat on his face. 

Recovering from his near-fall, Kuno squinted his eyes in the dark, his vision slowly becoming adjusted to it; looking ahead of him, he saw the entrance to the kitchen, marked so by the square cloth pieces hanging in its doorway. He treaded carefully as he walked forward, ducking slightly, the cloth brushing against his forehead as he did so.

The modest kitchen greeted him; the ghost scent of dinners past clung jealously to the air, wafting to Tatewaki's nose. He identified the strongest aroma as being of yakitori origin, and he felt his stomach somersault, then growl loudly - he suddenly remembered that he had not eaten in about a day or so, what with all that happened. 

He debated within himself for but a moment whether or not it was socially acceptable to raid the refrigerator of the Tendo family at the ungodly hour of… 12:30? Kuno blinked at the clock on the wall. Surely it had to be much, much later; his body felt far too restlessly tired for it to only be 12:30 a.m.

He rubbed his eyes, and checked the clock above the sink once more. It still read 12:30. Kuno swore quietly again - it was going to be a very, very long night.

Ten minutes had passed, and Kuno found himself chewing mechanically on the reheated yakitori. Bite, chew, chew, chew… swallow. Repeat if necessary. 

He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes roving over the various cutlery and baskets of fruit that littered the immediate area; he spied a coffee maker on the corner of the kitchen counter. Caffeine seemed a good enough stimulant as any, and from the small kitchen table he rose, making his way over to the coffee-making machine.

He found the tiny cartoon of a dancing coffee mug and the English letters spelling out "Mr. Coffee!" in bubble-white font to be morally offensive, but Kuno shrugged it off, because damn it, he wanted his coffee. And only after a great deal of searching though various cupboards and drawers, managing to have a skillet fall on his head in the process, did Kuno find the coffee grounds. Grumbling unintelligibly, he checked for a filter; upon finding one, he put the grounds in, and set the machine to work. He leaned against the counter, listening to it hum and whir. Mr. Coffee! stared back at him.

His eyes shifted up to the wall. 12:34.

Fuck.

It was then he decided that coffee would simply not be enough to keep him awake on this long, dreary night; another quick searched of the counter yielded a container disturbingly shaped like a cute little piggy full of sugar, its belly hollowed out to hold the white stuff. Kuno supposed it could be worse - after all, the vast amount of the kitchen appliances could be Hello Kitty.

There had to be something else, though… something to give his coffee a good kick. He went back over to the fridge to take a look - they had cola, some purple stuff, and… sake. Arching an eyebrow, Kuno pulled out the bottle of alcohol, and paused in thought.

Ping! Mr. Coffee! was done his labourious task of creating his namesake, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee killed the lingering smell of yakitori.

12:37. It couldn't hurt to have some wacky sake in his cup. Kuno also promised to punch himself if he were to ever use that phrase again. 

Listening as the coffee drizzled leisurely into the pot, Kuno brought the sake with him over to the counter; he rummaged through the cupboards once more, and managed to find a teacup without extensive physical damage done to his person. He filled the small cup with sake, and took a drink; good quality, not too hard, but not too soft either, and rather smooth going down. Kuno was impressed - the Tendo father certainly knew his stuff, which really wasn't surprising, considering the man had the emotional stability of a depressed twelve year-old girl. Now, as for how the sake would taste in the coffee…

Back into the cupboard for a coffee mug, and back onto the counter to pour the hot liquid. Mr. Coffee! smiled happily at him, which continued to irk Kuno, but he said nothing, because yelling at a coffee pot at half-past midnight would be just ridiculous. He also scooped out a couple spoonfuls of sugar from the ceramic pig's concave pot-belly, stirring it into the coffee along with the rest of the sake in the teacup. Once it was satisfactorily mixed together, Kuno took a sip of it.

His face twitched, and he could feel his throat spasm as the pseudo coffee sludge made its way down, and he had to forcefully suppress his gagging reflex, which left his tongue dry and slightly burnt by the rather hot stuff.

Not half bad. Not half bad at all. Sure it stung his throat on the way down, and he had the distinct feeling that drinking needles and broken glass flavoured with Buckley's cough syrup would be more pleasant, but at least it was keeping him up.

Kuno sat down at the empty table, sipping at the mixture in his mug. The night was very still and quiet, save the occasional, far-away howl of a dog. In fact, Kuno wondered, perhaps if he thought too loudly, his musings would be heard by those sleeping in the house. The chair squeaked against the tile floor as he leaned back against it, bringing the cup to his lips once more. 

The silence of the night didn''t seem to fit the Tendo home at all - if anything, this place was normally host to many a battle, challenge, wedding, break-in, Christmas party, etc. Always were these events heralded with noise, noise, noise - loud, crashing, booming, squealing, often violent sounds that let everyone in the immediate area know that something generally confusing was going on.

Funny, he thought, how all the confusion was so easily understood. Anarchistic fights and squabbles all made so much damn sense to the lot of them, and it was so "justified" on all sides. And even if he knew was wrong, if it was proven to him and to them, did it really make a difference?

Kuno took another sip of the coffee muddle. All the rivalries and love interests and enemies and friends (or lack thereof) could all blend together, and it was ridiculously, confusingly clear. Now that all those trivialities seemed so much less important, the clarity was damned confusing.

Considering giving up on the coffee sludge and just drinking straight alcohol as he usually would, Kuno sighed deeply, looking down into the cup, swirling the contents a bit. His reflection was made visible by the moonlight drifting in through the kitchen window.

"What's happening to me…?" he whispered to the dark pool of brown in his hands. He was generally used to never getting an answer, so when his reflection (logically) did not say anything in return, he didn''t feel let down. Much.

Soft noises interrupted the quiet of the kitchen and Kuno''s thoughts. He looked up, hearing the distinct sound of bare feet treading down the wooden hallway, obviously heading towards the very kitchen he was in. The footfalls were too heavy to belong to Nabiki or Kasumi, so any chance of slightly normal conversation was ruled out right there. All he could do was hope to Kami that it wasn't... 

Ranma. Walking into the kitchen, obviously completely oblivious to the fact that he was in Kuno's presence. He ambled over to the fridge, opened it, grabbed the carton of milk, and closed the refrigerator door. Sleep still skirted his eyes, and Ranma didn't look to aware of all that he was doing as he fumbled with the milk carton, brought it to his lips, and took a very long, undignified gulp. A bit of milk drooled down the sides of his lips and, with a satisfied 'ahh', he tossed the now-empty milk carton into the nearby garbage, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Kuno blinked and Ranma rubbed at his eyes, yawning. He walked over to the table, his lids only half-open. Kuno's eyes widened a little as Ranma came closer to him, the younger boy still obviously not having noticed the other person just inches away from him. With a great sigh, Ranma flopped down onto the chair, which was occupied by Kuno.   
  
The pigtailed boy was a little confused as to why the chair felt rather warm and bumpy beneath him. He shrugged it off, sleep still heavily ingrained within his mind. He sighed, and leaned further back in 'chair'.   
  
Getting over the initial shock, Kuno was brought out of his stupour by the feel of Ranma's leg crushing down on his crotch, eliciting from him a yelp of pain.   
  
Ranma's eyes shot open.   
  
"Holy shit!" Ranma exclaimed, jumping up and rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, his back pressed against the wall, his breath heavy. Kuno winced slightly as he squirmed in his seat, re-adjusting himself nicely.   
  
"Maybe you should watch where are sitting next time," he said simply, taking a long, heavy drink of his coffee, letting the sordid liquid wash down his throat. Ranma continued to breath shakily, his eyes remaining large.   


"F… fuck…" Ranma stuttered, managing to catch his breath somewhat. "Shit, you scared me."  
  
"Then I feel damned proud of myself," Kuno snipped back flatly. To this, Ranma sighed deeply, swallowing once, and ran a hand through his hair. It was silent for a moment.   
  
"Yeah, w-well, you didn't scare me that bad," the black haired boy muttered finally, walking over to the table, looking a tad guarded. There was another chair beside him. Kuno smirked.   
  
"Of course I did not, Ranma." Awkward silence once more as Kuno sipped at his coffee. Taking the mug away from his lips, Kuno arched an eyebrow, then looked up at Ranma. "Ranma, I am not going to bite you. Sit down." Ranma huffed, biting his lip.   
  
"I'll sit down when I wanna sit down," Ranma said defiantly, crossing his arms.   
  
Another pause.   
  
"And that just happens to be now, and just 'cause I wanna, not 'cause you told me to." He sat down quickly, and Kuno sighed.   
  
"Fine, whatever you wish," he said quietly, setting down his cup. "I made a pot of coffee if you would like some."  
  
"Uh, sure. Thanks." Kuno got up to go over to the coffee pot, however Ranma, ever the impatient one, decided to reach across the table to have a little taste test of said coffee, and he took a generous gulp. For the second time that night in a span of mere minutes, his eyes widened, and his face turned a rather intriguing shade of green. He ran over to the sink, spitting it out.   
  
"Geeze, that coffee tastes like crap!" he exclaimed, fumbling for a nearby glass to fill with water. He ran the tap, being very careful not to splash cold water on himself in the process; once it filled substantially enough, he downed it almost as quickly as he did the coffee, his face still screwed up in disgust.   
  
"Ugh, what was in that??"   
  
"Sake, and a liberal amount of sugar," Kuno said, pouring from the pot another mug full of coffee. Ranma made a face.   
  
"Sugar and sake? Why?" The younger boy returned to the table, wiping at his mouth.   
  
"Because it keeps me awake with its horrid taste. Usually I do not need it, but it comes in handy," Kuno explained, bringing the coffee mug over to Ranma. "Here. Put what you want in it." The martial artist mumbled a thanks as he looked into the coffee mug.

"I just like it black," Ranma said, taking a sip of it; the coffee had cooled down nicely, and the warm taste enveloped his tongue, allowing him to forget about the terrible stuff in Kuno's cup. He leaned back in the chair, expelling his breath gently, still feeling a little tired.

"So," Kuno started, looking down into his mug, "you realize that I cannot drink out of this, now that your mouth as been on it." Ranma blinked.

"So what if it has? C'mon, it ain't no big deal. 'Sjust spit."

"Yes, well, I have absolutely no intention of tasting your..." Kuno made a face, tipping the coffee mug slightly, "...spit."

"Well, that's your loss then." Ranma drank some more of his coffee, and looked at Kuno out of the corner of his eye. The older boy caught this look as he stood up once more, going over to the sink to dump the spoiled coffee out.

"What is it, Ranma?" he asked, rinsing the mug out with some water, "do you still think that I would be insane and cruel enough to kill my own family?" The question, needless to say, took Ranma by surprise, from both Kuno's tone and the directness of his query. His fingers tightened a little around the ceramic coffee cup in his hands.

"Kuno, I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

Ranma thought about this.

"Okay, so maybe I said something along those lines, but it was just a theory!" Ranma explained, doing his best to avoid any sort of committment-like answers. Kuno looked over his shoulder at the boy behind him.

"Just a theory?" He looked back to the sink. "I am sure." Ranma sighed irately, running his fingers through his hair.

"Kuno, listen. I just got worried 'bout everyone in the house, okay? I mean, put yourself in my shoes for a minute - if you were me and I were you, wouldn't you think it was weird that I was just wandering the streets at night drenched in blood?" Kuno went over to the coffee pot, pouring it to the brim of the mug, listening silently. Ranma continued on.

"A-And besides, you've been acting weird lately. Okay, well, weirder'n normal, and that takes alot to do," the pigtailed boy stated, drinking generously. Kuno debated whether or not he should leap in attack at Ranma for no apparent reason like he would usually do, but then realized that, according to the oh-so-helpful kitchen clock, it was just going on one o'clock in the morning. It wouldn't do to wake up his hosts.

"So if I were you and you were me," Kuno began, sitting back down on at the table, bringing with him the sake and sugar, "then the fact that your only family had just been kidnapped without a trace, and that you were acting odd because of it, would give me grounds to try to pin guilt on you, and subsequentially harm you, is that correct?" Ranma furrowed his eyebrows.

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"It is what you did." He paused his conversation as he poured some sake into the coffee. "I believe the word you are looking for is 'sorry'."

"Yeah, right Kuno. I was doing what I thought was right," Ranma stated, leaning back in his chair.

"And what you did was not right. Therefore, I expect an apology."

"Hey, I ain't apolo-"

"Or you can help me to find my sister," Kuno added quietly, stirring in a few spoon's worth of sugar. Kuno sighed gently before taking a sip of the newly mixed coffee, feeling the liquid within the cup warm his cold fingers. 

Ranma, still guarded in his posture, relaxed slightly. It was true that his 'theory' had been thrown out the window with the appearance and brief explanation of the German man who had appeared. Whatever was going on, it certainly went beyond the regular circle of Nerima's Wrecking Crew; deep down, Ranma knew that none of his rivals could ever be cruel enough to kidnap someone so...violently. He wanted to know who did it, and very much so at that - and then he wanted to kick their ass.

He nodded.

"Alright. I'll help you find Kodachi," Ranma said, his voice breaking the small silence. It certainly beat an apology. Kuno nodded his head, then looked up at Ranma.

"Thank you."

Ranma stared at Kuno in surprise. Did Kuno just thank him? He furrowed his eyebrows, sipping at his coffee; stranger things have happened, but... not alot was stranger than that. Ranma cleared his voice.

"You're, uh, welcome."

The boys drank their coffee in relative silence for the next hour or so, the quiet night surrounding the house as they did. Ranma realized, in a short moment of insight, that Kuno was being unusually non-aggressive; in most instances, the kendoist would be at his throat for some offense or the other.

He quietly drank his coffee, and glanced up at the less boisterous, rather contemplative-looking boy before him.

It was a surprisingly nice change of pace.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


Holy crap. How long have I been gone for? o_O; In a stunning change of pace to my 1.5 fans out there, I'm really not dead. Yet. ^^ Huzzah!

I'm sorry this took so long. v_v School's been such a drag, and I've been in this sort of writing... funk. Weirdness. Also, apparently, I had an infraction with FF.net with something I uploaded twice. I did it a while ago, and completely forgot about it... apparently, someone reported me. I'd like to know who'd want to report something like that. O_o So I'm pretty bugged about that... 

Anyhoot, I hope you enjoy Ch. 13 of Pandora! I swear more interesting stuff happens in the next chapters! XD

  
  


~Chibikat 

  



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